Songs to be Sung
by Eilike
Summary: Loki is wounded, trying to save a book of Asgard's library from being stolen by a dwarven druid. While Thor, Jane, Erik and Darcy take on the challenge of getting him through the night alive, the enemy arrives... No slash, no Thorki. Rated T just for safety.
1. Escape

Hi there. This is the first time I publish something on this site that's not based on anime or cartoon.

It is set shortly after "Thor", assuming that there was a - however short - interim period when there was hope that Loki would yet return to Asgard, and Odin would not give him life, if he did. (Somehow, I can imagine the average Aesir going, "Well, everyone has their ten minutes of temporary madness. Did he kill one of ours? Tried to, sure. But didn't. *WTF*- let's get some mead!")

This story is about Loki being in a bad shape and asking for Thor to stay by his side, without getting tortured, raped, slashed or mentally broken. Which doesn't mean he doesn't feel like crying every now and then ("He's such an oaf, and I'm his step-brother, waargh!")

***We've been at the movies, watching Thor: The Dark World, and the idea for this story was "born": So, this one's for you, Bibi.***

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 1: Escape +++

Sneaking into Asgard was easy, if you knew the hidden pathways. Getting into the library without being noticed was a bit harder, but not an impossible challenge. The old librarian was half deaf and short-sighted, and he never looked at his visitors' faces. He was too busy reading.

Nevertheless, Loki suspected that Frigga bribed the man to ensure his continuing absent-mindedness. Their meetings had become well-guarded secrets since the "Jotunheim affair", and detection would mean Loki's instant capture and, probably, punishment.

Although he could not think of what Odin Allfather would do to him, since he was basically living in exile already.

He passed the librarian in the form of a druid he'd once met in Odin's court, then changed his glamour to his usual dark-haired appearance. It was probably a silly thing to do, but after three thousand years you tended to think of these things as "real". Especially, if you could not bring yourself to live with the blue-skinned, red-eyed truth.

Asgard's library was a maze. The room was three storeys high and, of course, full of book shelves that reached up to the domed ceiling. However, unlike the libraries of dwarves or humans, Asgard's book shelves were not set up in long lines, like a giant's play at dominoes. They curved and angled, following the lines of runes: If one had removed the ceiling and looked at the library from above, he would have found "written" in books the names by which Odin Allfather was known to the different people of the nine realms. It had taken Loki some time to figure out when he was first admitted as a boy. But from the time he understood the pattern, he'd have found his way blindfolded.

He followed the "Thridi"-curve now, up to "Bileigr" and turned left, entering "Helblindi". There, at right angles with "Grimnir", waited a table stacked with books. It was a friendly place, lit by a rare window instead of the diffuse magical light that seemed to filter right out of the walls.

Loki sat at the table, and his gaze wandered to the brightly blue sky. Asgard's sky. _If that didn't give an outcast like him a sense of loss, then nothing would._

His gloomy mood lifted instantly, when the bird landed in the window. It was a falcon, a peregrine, and obviously not happy with perching on a sill.

An almost boyish smile appeared on Loki's face.

'Hello, mother!'

The falcon shrugged its wings. Its shape began to change, growing tall and shedding the feathers. Frigga stood before her son, giving him an affectionate hug which he returned.

'I'm so glad you could make it,' she said.

'Look who's talking,' Loki teased. He pointed at the wide brown-and-golden shirt she wore over her usual tunic. 'You must've been in a hurry to borrow Freya's falcon shirt. You never liked flying.'

'The morning was a hassle. Odin Allfather is receiving a delegation of dwarfs, and preparations seemed endless.' She paused. 'Their leader is Brock.'

'I've had my share of trouble with that withered old druid,' said Loki. 'He sewed my mouth shut once, so I will make no more words about him in return. But - does it mean we're safe? The old man won't pry on us? He won't send out his troops to put the prodigal son in iron?'

'_Our king_, Odin Allfather,' said Frigga with emphasis, 'would appreciate to welcome the prodigy back to Asgard.'

Loki pouted a little and rolled his eyes.

'Don't give me that look, Loki,' said Frigga. 'You know him. He's never been one to show his feelings. He's the king. But I know he's worried by what happened on that day. He told me that it was his lack of empathy when you needed his approval that made you let go of the spear. He said he now understood that he'd better offered you his hand instead of words. Pulled you back to safe ground, then talked.'

'You're a poor liar, mother, and I wish you'd not try. Odin Allfather has not spoken my name in kindness since he saw me falling into the abyss beyond Bifrost.'

'Loki...'

He put his hands to her shoulders, smiling sadly, 'Please, mother. No more of it. I haven't made my way across the void, sneaking past Heimdall, avoiding Hugin's and Munin's keen raven eyes and my brother's ever vigilant gang of friends just to fight with you.'

'You haven't, it's true.' Frigga sighed. 'You came to discuss Gangnir's theory on the possibility of realms existing beyond the Nine. And our means of conquering them.'

They sat at a desk, each opening a book from the stack that Frigga had earlier ordered to be put together. Discussing philosophy and the discoveries of the supernatural and natural world had always been an interest the two of them shared. In Asgard, this kind of disputes necessarily followed a certain form: There were two debaters, one of them asking questions, the other answering to the best of his knowledge. All contributions were given in alliterative verses. The structured lilt fascinated the skalds' audiences in front of fireplaces throughout the realm. But with magic users like Frigga and Loki, the possessive rhythm could even induce real visionary states. Prophesies had been made, when the dialogue reached a new level of intensity, where insights were combined and fresh connections found in the replying person's answers.

Loki usually volunteered for the role of the questioner.

He thought for a moment, then said, '_Truthfully tell me/ if true words thou hast/ The ways that to worlds unseen lead?/ Where warriors of Asgard will tread / To see foreign stars?_'

Frigga countered, '_Share true tale I will/ for tidings I have/ That Bifrost will bend/ to bridge the great blank/ Beyond the nine stars.'_

Loki looked up, 'They will use Bifrost again? How so?'

'Loki, please,' Frigga said mildly, 'Mind your alliterations.'

Loki sighed and thought for a moment, '_Truthfully tell me/ If truth thou dost seek/ About Aesirs assailing / ascending the arc /_ Heimdall's hoard is destroyed!'

Frigga smiled, '_Hear out my whole lore/ Heimdall's hoard will prevail..._'

_There must be an easier way to catch on with the latest gossip and developments,_ thought Loki. _But there's definitely none more stylish._

* * *

It was hot and stuffy, and Thor was certain he'd not live to see the end of this ceremony. He hooked his finger into the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen it some and be able to breathe. It was a warm day in Asgardian spring. But dwarves were creatures of the fiery deeps, and to make them feel comfortable Odin Allfather had ordered the fireplace fueled with extra wood.

Thor peered at his father. The king did not even show a bead of sweat on his brow. And his resilience was not aided by magic. That creepy druid, Brock, would have noticed and taken offense.

As things were, the greeting went well. The visitor, whose head would not have reached up to Odin's waistline when standing up, sat on a floating chair like a fat toad on a lily pad. His long hair was of a yellowish white color that Thor associated with very old dogs. His shrunk face showed the hard lines of malevolence and deeply rooted suspicion. It seemed unlikely that Odin Allfather and this creature should sit and reminisce old lore, but that was exactly what they did. It was part of the protocol, the mutual remembering of those stories that bespoke of the everlasting friendship between the two people.

_Some friendship, indeed,_ thought Thor.

No one had yet mentioned the somewhat unfortunate episode when Loki had gone into Brock's halls, asking for some special treasure to compensate for Sif's lost hair. Which he had clipped real short before, furtively, in order to prove to Thor and the Warriors Three that he had mastered a certain glamour spell.

Thor remembered the look of a furious Sif wielding her two-bladed sword at his bolting brother. It had struck the friends as absolutely hilarious, they way she was mad enough to see through every illusion the panicked trickster threw in her way.

Saved in the nick of time by Thor and the Warriors Three, Loki had seeked out Brock, who had a certain reputation for magical items. He returned with a wig of finest golden hair and a stupid wager on his head. During the following complications, his silver tongue spared him the worst. But Brock had made it known that Loki Odinson had better not set foot into his realm again.

Thor thought it possible that Brock had chosen this of all times to pay Asgard a visit, because the news of Loki's disappearance had spread and reached the druid's netherworld dwellings.

Again, the thunder god stifled a sigh. If everyone that Loki had offended, maltreated, threatened, crossed, duped or played tricks on decided to jump at the opportunity and renew acquaintance with Asgard's king and first-born son, he'd better say farewell to sunlight and fresh air for a long, long time.

* * *

It was beginning at last.

Loki and Frigga had been throwing alliterations at each other at an ever increasing speed, and now, Frigga's eyes had become a bit hazed. Loki was not principally averse to visions, as long as they messed with other people's brains.

He leaned forward, intrigued, 'Mother? What do you see?'

Frigga got up as if she didn't hear, hung the falcon shirt over her arm, and started to walk away. Loki followed her, more curious than concerned. Frigga was an experienced medium. She was not in distress, or he'd have known. This was the rune of Odin's _alias_ "Widur", would she turn right into "Skilfingr" or left? _Ah yes,_ "Yggr". So, they were approaching "Father of Victory", and there, right under the library's dome –

Frigga reached the circular space, about twenty foot in diameter, that demarcated the center of the library. She waved her hand, and a pedestal became visible. There was a single book on it, lit by a single beam of light that had its source at the hightest point of the vaulted ceiling. Frigga stepped up to it, hesitated but a moment as if in prayer, then took the book in her hands.

'Mother, what are you doing?' asked Loki.

She turned and held the book out to him, 'Take it, my son.'

'_What?_' It was no more than an audible breath.

'You must keep it safe.'

'I can't – ' Loki's voice caught in his throat. But his hands moved as if of their own volition, and he accepted the book. The vellum seemed to send a surge of heat through his body, but he realized it was only his pulse quickening. _The center stone of Asgard's library._ No one, save Odin Allfather and the inner circle of druids, ever touched these pages - and even they did so only on certain occasions, solstice celebrations or althing meetings.

'You can. You must! Take it away from here.' Frigga thrust the falcon shirt at him. 'Fly, Loki!_ Fly!_'

'This cannot be real, mother. You cannot mean this – ' As he spoke, the sound of the library doors opening and closing travelled the distance and echoed from the dome like a friendly elf's warning.

'Excuse me, my lords,' said the librarian. 'You seem strangers to this place. Can I help – '

_Thug!_

_Bonk!_

'That was a bit stupid, Breki.' There was a peculiar accent to the voice. 'We needed his head on his shoulders to find the book.'

'Dwarves,' whispered Loki.

Frigga nodded, fully awake again. Her hand went to the dagger on her belt. 'Brock's not here to make friends, Loki. I've seen it in my mind's eye. He's here to steal Asgard's secret wisdom which is more valuable than gold or precious stones.'

'He's got enough of those.' Loki tucked the book in a secret pocket of his leather coat and slipped the falcon shirt on. There were sounds of ransacking, of books falling to the floor, vellum, paper and parchment being torn right through and shelves toppled over. Loki held out his hand, 'Quick, mother. I know the way.'

'So do I.' She smiled, but she accepted his hand.

He led her swiftly between "Oski" and"Weratyr", and then along the long side of "Sadr". There, she suddenly stopped. 'The window over there, Loki. Go.'

'But I cannot carry you as a falcon – '

Frigga smiled a hard, thin-lipped smile. 'I will go nowhere. The library must not fall into the hands of these barbarians.'

'Be reasonable, mother. We cannot help it now.' Loki was about to grab her elbow, when a white-bearded dwarf turned the corner. 'I thought I heard someone sneaking. _You!_ Librarian! I want this book.' He pushed a slip of thin leather with a rune written on it under Loki's nose.

_You want this book, dwarf? Guess what?_

_I have it._

'This book – ' Loki began, readying his dagger for the kill.

' – is not for lending,' Frigga finished. The point of her dagger broke through the dwarf's throat. She turned the blade, then pushed him away to free it. He stumbled forward wide-eyed, spluttering blood and groping blindly. Just before he tumbled out of the window, Loki snatched away the short-bladed sword from the dying warrior's belt.

'Catch, mother.' Loki threw Frigga the weapon, and she caught it neatly. Taking her stand, she was no longer a creature tamed by Asgard's court life and household chores. Now, she was free and wild, like the wind over the grasslands that were her tribe's home.

'Go,' she said, and stepped around the nearest shelf and out of sight. Loki could hear her taking on the first enemy and probably felling him with a series of quick strokes. 'Go, Loki, _go,_ go! To Heimdall.'

Loki called upon the falcon shirt's magic. His body changed, it twisted and shrank and sprouted feathers. Instants later, he had turned into a peregrine. The book was under his talons. He looked about with golden eyes, gave a shrill scream and took off in a flurry of flapping wings.

Once outside the window, he soared, relishing the freedom and once more surprised at how easy it was. Of course, the falcon shirt's magic provided a certain amount of avian instinct so the user would not mess up altogether. But with Loki, it was even more than that. Always had been. Watching him fly for the first time, Frigga had stated with delight that he had a natural gift for navigating in three dimensions. (One of the few qualities of Odin's younger son that mighty Thor had never been able to match and usually preferred to deny.)

But Loki's hopes of making an unnoticed escape were utterly destroyed when some kind of alarm sounded from beneath. With his falcon eyesight, he made out two dwarves of Brock's company that were busy with their ponies. They were flustered, which was understandable. One minute ago, their chief had dropped dead from the library's window, and now a great bird left by the same exit, carrying a book in its talons. No wonder, they wanted to take a closer look.

A box was pulled off some saddle, and several shiny objects were released. They looked like ridiculously oversized dragonflies, but instead of a hum their wings produced a mechanical, whirring sound. The sunlight reflected from their metallic skin and the vicious mandibles that were basically tongs sharpened to bite, pierce and deal hurt.

They attacked, bent on forcing the peregrine to land.

Dodging and diving, Loki did his best to avoid them, while holding on to his precious burden. This book must not fall into the hands of Asgard's enemies. It was important, sacred, the source of uncountable songs among the Asgardians. It had been a source of unsatisfied curiosity for Odin's sons, but it occurred to Loki that his time had come - it was his now, his to read, if he chose to do so.

He realized that that alone should be reason enough (_where did that spire come from?_) for him to protect this book with his life. And that it didn't require any special effort of courage or self-motivation to do so (_dragonfly at three o'clock_), since his life was already at stake out here (_spiral nosedive and awaayyy_). And that, since Thor (_where was that big oaf when you needed him, anyway?_) didn't seem about to send a precisely aimed bolt of lightning (_or two, or three_), a not-very-happy ending was probably how things would turn out.

For him, Loki.

The majority of Asgard might feel otherwise.

+++End of chapter 1+++

* * *

A/N: I've always been fascinated by Freya's falcon shirt, and I'm happy I could eventually use it in a story. This garment - and Brock (as well as the story of him sewing Loki's mouth shut when he couldn't get the trickster's head) are part of the original myth. I think Brock was not a druid but a master smith, maybe both, but I'd have to look it up. I also tried to give as close an imitation to alliterative verse as possible. I don't think they're shining examples of their genre, though. All you linguists and literary scholars out there - please be lenient. (Boy, I've never been so desperate to find a word alliterating with "rainbow" before - and then I decided to simply "make that _bridge_" :) )

I'd be happy to get reviews (and story alerts. I love story alerts!), and I'll update as soon as I've found out exactly how Heimdall's going to get Loki out of Asgard :)


	2. Potential

Hi everybody. Thanks for reading, and reviewing, and following.

(My computer mouse has died during lay-out and won't be resuscitated by new batteries, and I really suck at using the touchpad, so I'll probably end up clicking all kinds of ad banners and mail orders to the left and right of the screen. But I really look forward to getting more reviews from you, guys, and so far there is not much substance to comment on, so let's get on with the story :) )

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 2: Potential +++

Pleasantries had long been exchanged, but the conversation was not getting any less boring. Thor tried to keep his eyes open and an interested look on his face. This day had started so well, with a gorgeous sunrise and wonderful morning... How he longed to be out there with the Warriors Three and Sif... _and,_ he reflected sadly, _his brother._

Loki had always been at a mere arm's length behind, his step in perfect synch with his brother's. Thor had never noticed until the lighter tread in the wake of his own heavy-booted stride fell silent a few months ago.

Loki was no longer available for sharing adventures. Because he was – _he was_ –

'Out there!' Thor jumped to his feet, ignoring the irritated look from his father and the flinching movement of their guest. 'Father! It's Loki!' Thor pointed at the peregrine sweeping around the castle's high spires, a dozen blinking objects following at its tail. 'He's under attack!'

'It could be your mother,' mused Odin. 'It would have to be her. Yes. I think I heard her mention she'd borrow Freya's falcon shirt for some urgent errand.'

'It's Loki, I tell you,' Thor insisted, watching the bird use the particular thermal drafts between two towers to flip, roll sideways and power-dive vertically, its belly all but grazing the wall. 'Mother would never fly so – so - .'

'Suicidally,' Odin said. 'You're right: She'd never.' He squinted. 'The bird's carrying a book.'

'These strange things are bearing in on him.' Thor prepared to throw his hammer.

'No lightning!' said Odin quickly. 'He's risking his life to save a book. You want it to go up in flames?'

He was right, of course. Thor reflected on his options: Mjolnir could carry him through the air, at the speed of lightning. But, just like lightning, it could only go in a straight line. No way he could match the peregrine's wild maneuvres or even hope to get close enough to one of the whizzing metal objects to strike.

On the other hand - considering the way they had parted, he thought it not very likely that Loki would follow the invitation to take their stand in a ground fight. Even if it was the only kind of assistance Thor could offer at the moment.

Thor turned to his father, asking, 'Send out Hugin and Munin to help with those strange insects. Meanwhile, I will find a way to join in the fight.'

'It is done,' said Odin, gesturing at his two ravens. 'Go to Heimdall, Thor. It is where your brother was told to go by - '

'Allfather,' said a guard, shocked. 'Lord Brock has disappeared!'

'Jumped at the first opportunity, the old scoundrel.' Odin sighed. 'I really hoped there'd be some feuds settled today. Well, there's hope yet. As I said, Thor, go to – '

'My king,' the guard spoke up again. 'Prince Thor has left, too.'

The Allfather smiled at the door that was softly swinging on its hinges.

_Boys will be boys,_ he thought, as he sat on his chair. _But only Asgardian boys will use worlds for playgrounds, explode observatories and hurl lightning at each other._

He closed his eyes, concentrating.

_Still, they are _my_ boys. There is hope yet.  
_

_I wish they would sort it out._

* * *

Loki was not happy to see the two ravens enter his air space. In fact, he was irked. Having to fight in this unusual shape was taking its toll on him, but there was probably not much to be expected from Odin's familiars anyway. Except -

'Have you come here to spy on me?' he greeted them acidly. 'To give the Allfather a detailed report on how his son was made to crash by a traitor's minions?' Loki zig-zagged desperately as he spoke. 'Or to make sure these mechanical beasts bring to bear their weapons just as they should - ?'

Hugin tackled a dragonfly and severed its left wing. Munin took on two other creatures and tricked them them into bumping into each other. They went down in a great puff of grey smoke and sizzling electricity, with Munin already looking about for the next enemy.

Before long, Loki was ready to admit that even the most sophisticated magic could not make up for the genuine thing, a bird's inborn instinct for flight and years of practice. Being true ravens, Hugin and Munin had even mastered the art of flying backside down over short distances, a skill that was unique even among birds and took the enemy by surprise.

Watching the ravens fight, or rather: having enormous fun with a swarm of curious toys, Loki found precious seconds to take stock of the situation: _Maybe he would not have to escape at all?_ He still didn't know where to go. 'To Heimdall,' Frigga had said. But once his presence was revealed to Asgard's guardian...

_Don't be silly_, he told himself. _Heimdall has long noticed you by now, you latest stunt caused such a commotion. The Asgardians must stand in the street, open-mouthed, pointing their fingers at the sky. The only reason you're not in chains yet is that they need to wait for you to land..._

Lost in thought, he casually caught the arrow that came his way.

And realized a split-second too late that he didn't have a hand to do the trick.

The sharp pain almost threw him off balance. His left wing was on fire: The arrow had buried its pointy head neatly in the shoulder and continued to sit there. As Loki forced his wing up in order to stay airborne, he felt crushed bones grate on each other. A red blossom of pain unfolded before his eyes, and a thought came along with it: _Correct that! They don't wait. They are _making_ you land!_

_Odin's archers will bring to an end what the fiendish dragonflies failed to achieve._

Again, he forced himself to flap his wings. The arrow head seeming to be blocking the joint. Hugin and Munin were flying beside him now, agitated, helpless. Connected to Odin Allfather's magic though they were, there was absolutely nothing they could do to assist a tumbling comrade.

And then, as if following a silent order, they began to circle each other, like two orbs revolving around one and the same center of gravity. Faster and faster they went, falling away towards a structure that Loki realized was the building site of Heimdall's new observatory.

_Got to apologize to him for destroying the first one,_ the trickster decided, feeling a little light-headed and giddy from the pain and more adrenaline kicking in. _If this is what I think it is then my life will depend on his good will._

Hugin and Munin were far ahead now, two black orbs revolving around a white light that had started to glow right in their center of gravity. They had started to narrow their circles, coming dangerously close to each other at each completed round.

Loki shivered, but not only from pain: This magic was too old and too wicked to be even allowed to exist, much less put into practice.

He gazed again, thinking, _But how can it feel so beautiful, if it is so wrong?_

And he knew the answer: _Because you're sky-high on endorphines; magic can feel "good", but never "beautiful". A flower is beautiful. A sunset is beautiful. But this magic feels "good", because it's what Frigga promised when she sent you to Heimdall._

A way to leave Asgard.

Making a desperate decision, Loki angled his wings, dipped his head and surrendered himself to the neckbreaking speed of a power-dive that was the unique skill of a hunting peregrine and could not be matched by any bird.

Except by the ravens of Odin whose names in English signified "Thought" and "Memory", and the creature, god or mortal, that could keep up with those two had not yet been born.

* * *

Heimdall turned his eyes upon the sky and the spinning ravens above. He was not surprised, for he had been observant and received his orders. Allfather's Thoughts of the present and Memories of the past entwined in a wild merry-go-round of the two familiars, and where they blended, Potential was created.

Heimdall turned his eyes upon it, assessing, selecting, feeding magic into the delicate fabric – and when he did, potential was turned into reality.

Called into existence for one purpose only...

Heimdall was not taken aback by the peregrine bolting into his unfinished chamber. He was not surprised to hear it address him as it dove past, 'Heimdall, if it means anything to you, I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorryI'm – '

He had known it would say just that, and answered levelly, 'This is not a personal favor, Loki, and I – '

He was surprised at last, when, instead of diving straight into the portal, the falcon banged against the wall, fluttered in a panic, circled and tackled the exit again. Blood and a few feathers remained stuck to the golden wall.

The portal of Thought and Memory swallowed the peregrine, accelerating the dazed bird once more as it sent him thundering through space like a feathered cannonball. Toward the destination that Lady Frigga had chosen for him when she had come in life-like image to brief Heimdall on his orders.

'Are you alright, my lady?' Heimdall had asked her. He knew the answer, of course. He had seen everything that transpired in the library. But sometimes, you just needed to hear such things from the person herself.

Frigga tucked a wanton lock behind her ear and seemed embarrassed by the presence of a blotch of red on her sleeve, 'I am. Brock's treacherous assistants have been subdued. Fortunately, a troop of guards happened to be close enough to intervene.'

'Fortunately, indeed, my lady.' Heimdall did not twitch a muscle in his face.

Nor did Lady Frigga, 'Thank you, Heimdall. Once again, I shall recommend your watchfulness to the Allfather.'

'I only wish to serve my king and his family to the best of my abilities. Your well-being is reward enough for me,' Heimdall had told her, and he had meant it.

And now, the Allfather's younger son had streaked past, splashing his blood all over Heimdall's wall, and with an arrow stuck in his wing.

Heimdall wondered if that had been part of the lady's plans, too.

Well, Loki's well-being had not exactly been an issue in Asgard of late. And Heimdall had seen him take worse and live - the guardian quickly glanced at his wall - even though he _did_ seem a little beside himself.

Hugin and Munin ceased their mad dance, and the white light died away. _(In his room that was still too heated and too empty, with both his sons missing on the errand of their own unfinished business, Odin Allfather gasped softly and clutched at his spear. But this was only witnessed by the guards, and they would not tell a single soul, god or mortal, living or dead.)_ Thought and Memory disentangled themselves, and the two ravens settled on both Heimdall's shoulders. They ruffled their feathers and moved their beaks to make soft, cracking sounds. All in all, they looked satisfied with an assignment well fulfilled.

And a little concerned, all the same.

'Don't worry, boys.' Heimdall directed his gaze to the field of stars outside. 'I have my eyes turned upon him.' He looked off into the distance. He blinked. 'On second thought: Maybe you two _are_ right to worry. Absolutely right.'

* * *

There had been a series of meterological peculiarities in the sky of New England, and Jane, Erik and Darcy had gone there to investigate. The girls would have been content to stay in a trailer, but Erik insisted that they rent a house. He was getting too old for sleeping bags and canned beans. He needed a real bed and a chest freezer well filled with a variety of supplies.

He had offered to bear expenses, as far as they exceeded the average rental prize for a decent three-person-trailer.

So, they had come to stay in this house that featured a bedroom for each, a well-equipped kitchen, a basement for keeping the supplies and even a patch of lawn to separate the front door from the curbstone. Ready-furnished and spacious (and costly) enough to house an entire university department.

_And the investment didn't seem to pay off._

The truth dawned on Erik as he sat at his computer in the gathering gloom of early evening, running a level two analysis on the data they had collected during those past few days. Green figures marched over a dark background in endless columns, and an occasional graph flickered on and off to visualize the process. Years of experience in this field of study already told Erik that no new, earth-rocking discovery would be made.

_Speaking of rocking..._

He realized that the water in his glass was moving. Not in those spreading circles that had become widely known as harbingers of large reptilian predators approaching. More in the quivering way that told of a great thunderstorm building up just above... _the roof?_

Erik looked to the window and saw the gigantic mouth of a hurricane open over his darkening front yard. Clouds of slate gray, sulphur yellow and algae green swirled, then a blinding white light shone up and spit out a crumpled figure.

Thor (_for who else could it be?_) was supposed to land with a clap of thunder and well on his feet. This time, however, he was discarded like something that was not to Bifrost's taste and was smashed to the ground brutally.

Erik hurried outside, the thunder god's name on his lips.

But his feet faltered, then stopped: The stunned man on his lawn was not blonde and muscular, but dark-haired and lean. He had landed prostrate, but now he turned over to lie on his back, spread-eagled. He stared into the sky with eyes that were just too dark to be of steel blue, even though their actual colour could not be identified in the dusk. His face was so pale it looked like a mask.

Erik saw the stranger blink his eyes a few times, hard, as if trying to remember what had happened to him and why. Then, he turned his head and said in a pleasant, gentle voice, 'If you're going to call me "Thor" but one more time, I'll have your head on a spear and your guts dangling from Asgard's highest tower.'

'Tho- ,' stuttered Erik, '_Tho th-thorry.._.'

'Once Asgard's highest tower is at my disposal, of course.' Loki sat up, put his elbows on his knees and the heels of his hands to his forehead, and grimaced. 'Next decade. Or the century after. I'll get back to you when I'm all set, alright?'

'You're bleeding,' said Erik, which was a dire understatement: The shaft of a short-bow arrow was protruding from his visitor's left shoulder, and the silky brown-and-golden shirt he wore over his coat was soaked and heavy with blood.

'Name's Loki,' Loki said with gritted teeth and pretended not to notice the human's flinching movement. He remembered something and hastily probed for the book. He found it beside him and quickly stowed it away in his coat.

'Loki?' said another voice from the door. 'Where's Thor?'

The man made a hushing gesture, but Loki cast the woman a quick glance and decided that she was too attractive to separate her from her guts just yet. Then he recognized her. He had seen her image shining in his brother's eyes during that final fight in Heimdall's observatory. Of all the potential places Heimdall could've sent him, why had it to be this front yard?

_That's not really a question you're asking yourself, is it? You know why they sent you here - big bro won't have to look wide and far, he'll just have to pay sweetums an overdue visit..._

'That's what I'd like to know,' Loki rasped, wishing for the world to stop spinning and for his shoulder and, like, a million other places to stop hurting. 'Where's Thor when I need him?'

Jane Foster had looked up hopefully, but realized that Bifrost – or whatever that unknown anomaly was called - had closed.

So she turned to the one visitor it had admitted.

'Well, where were you, when – ' she began irritably.

'Nice alliteration,' said Loki. 'If you should ever give up your occupation of being worried for my brother you should consider starting a career as a skald.' He leered at her, purposefully, '_I_ might hire you.'

Jane gasped for air, then inhaled again – she was gong to need a lot of air for what she was about to say. Darcy stood behind her and tugged at her shirt. 'Jane? Don't.'

'Pray, do,' Loki challenged, giving a mocking laugh that did not quite reach his eyes. '_Anytime._'

'But not right now. I agree.' The man moved as if to put his hand behind the swaying god's back. Loki merely looked at it, and the mortal thought better of it.

'Jane. Darcy,' Erik said, trying to sound as reasonable as he could. 'We've got a lot of blood here, and no one to help us with it.' He glanced at Loki. 'At least, I assume you didn't come here for us to call the paramedics?'

'Thor gave a report on your sick wards, Midgardian. I have no wish to go there.' Loki looked at the lighted window and a distinctive expression of longing passed through his eyes, then was gone again. 'Your grand hall will suffice. For the moment.'

'So, it's my grand hall, then,' sighed Erik. 'I just hope you'll find it "grand" enough for your purposes – oops, easy!' He reached out and caught Loki as the god stumbled. This time, Loki did not refuse the assistance.

'I'll get some hot water,' said Jane, reluctantly.

'I'll get my taser,' said Darcy.

Jane stopped in her tracks, 'What?'

Darcy waved her hand at the battered trickster, 'Look at that arrow. Do you think who-ever put that into him will just say "Oops, bridge's closed for tonight, let's finish him off another day"?' She narrowed her eyes, 'Besides, he's the bad guy, remember?'

'Which brings us back to the original question,' panted Erik, swaying under the weight that Loki found it increasingly convenient to transfer on to the mortal's shoulders. 'Where's the army of light? Where the hell is Thor?'

+++End of Chapter 2+++

* * *

A/N: At the end of chapter 1, I said that I would go on as soon as I figured out how the Asgardians could still travel between realms when Bifrost was destroyed. To come up with an answer, I spent some thoughts on Loki's statement in the "Avenger" movie - that Odin would have had to spend a lot of dark magic to get Thor back to his beloved earth. Well, I could easily imagine the Allfather using present and past to enable Loki (or anyone, in a situation he deems worth the hassle) to have a future. I could also imagine easily what would happen to any one magician trying this at home and without the Allfather's consent, so I guess in Asgardian terms it would be labelled "dark magic" indeed... (And male ravens really are known to fly upside down over short distances. They do it to impress the girls... :) )

Please review and "follow" :)


	3. Shadow

Hello. I'm happy you're back (or continue reading, if this is the first time you clicked this story). There are some explanations about to be given, but I need to point out that I am not a scientist and although I did a little research there's a good chance that physics, medical procedures and devices are by far more complicated than they are presented here. But then, this is a fantasy setting after all, and I hope you do not mind my using these things a little freely. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 3: Shadow+++

Five minutes after his arrival, Loki was sitting on Erik's sofa, trying to get his bearings. He had accepted a glass of water and sipped slowly, while silently admitting to himself how much he needed it. The dizziness just wouldn't leave, and his blood seemed to have turned into fire, burning its way through his veins. The women had brought some towels and left, claiming that they would do some "inter net" research on the treatment of arrow wounds. The man, whose name was Erik, was on stand-by, perched on the edge of a chair in respectful distance. He didn't seem to care that Loki refused talking to him. But he did seem to realize the trouble the god was in, and Loki despised being seen through.

Turning his mind inward, Loki scanned the wounds he had taken: His body tingled and hurt from the bitemarks the dragonfly things had given him. But, although being undisputably painful, they were only skin-deep and could be neglected. He did away with them with a mere gesture of his hand.

The real problem was posed by the arrow in his shoulder. It was quite obvious that it was poisoned, and the longer it stayed in, the worse damage it dealt. There was no time to wait for the women to return. Loki grabbed the shaft, braced himself and pulled. The arrow came free with a sucking sound and a great amount of blood. It clattered to the floor as Loki pressed a towel to the wound, using his magic to stop the bleeding. He searched the arrow with his eyes: The vicious thing's head was barbed. The spikes ran around the bottom of the arrow head like petals of a dangerous flower. No wonder it had stuck so firmly...

The human moved, obviously intending to take a closer look at the arrow. Loki wanted to shout at him to stay put. But a gasp was all that came out. Something had worsened with the removal of that evil object: Loki could feel his pulse throb in his throat, and his heart hammered in his chest like Sleipnir's eight hooves on the cobble stone of Asgard's main street.

Erik picked up the arrow and examined it. Especially the barbed head. He frowned at something and touched his finger to it.

'That may have been not the wisest of ideas, prince,' said Erik, with just the right apologetical sound to his voice to make it clear that he did not mean it quite as insulting as it sounded. 'Removing this arrow by force, I mean. I'm afraid it was poisoned.'

Loki continued looking at the human, encouraging him to tell him something he didn't know.

Erik moved the barbs with his fingers. They were obviously driven by tiny springs. 'A little contraption meant to be triggered once someone tried to pull that thing out. And a vial that held the poison. It seems made of lead. Which strikes me as peculiar...'

_Well, at least it explained why that damned thing was so heavy for the falcon to carry._

'What do you know about the substance it contained,' said Loki in a low voice.

'Let me check.' Erik took the arrow to his desk. He switched on one of his strange devices, a box of about the size of the head of Thor's hammer, and pushed the arrow in a slot. A display sprang to life, emitting a red light and lots of graphs. 'Just as I thought,' Erik mumbled. 'A tracer.'

Loki waited. He felt increasingly sick, probably the bloodloss getting to him. But he figured he'd last another five minutes to at least hear out the human's explanation.

'An unstable isotope.' Erik removed the arrow from the slot then picked up the box and moved it slowly. 'Element: unidentified. I don't even think it should exist in this world. But it's in your system. This little device here that is very good at scanning for radioactive particles in general is polka dancing when I point it at you.'

'How... _bad_ is it?' asked Loki.

'That's difficult to say. We'd probably have to put you into a Gamma camera to find out. But the current level of radiation is not lethal. It would not be for a human. It will certainly not cause permanent harm on someone like you.'

'Permanent? What about "temporarily"?'

Erik looked vaguely disgruntled by his patient's quick thinking. Loki would have smirked, if things had not been so serious.

'Of course, "temporarily" it may be a different thing.' Erik gave Loki a scrutinizing look. 'Is there something you might want to tell me about Asgardian first aid? Anything, from medicating a headache to performing a tracheotomy?'

'I can handle it,' said Loki.

'Maybe yes, maybe not. We have no idea how that stuff will affect you. What's your average pulse rate, heartbeats per minute?'

'I can handle it,' repeated Loki with more determination, although the human's dark foreboding had, in fact, shaken his confidence. 'But I must understand what it is that I'm dealing with. You identified the poison: _ice-on-top_?'

'Isotope,' Erik corrected. 'It means it's radioactive._ Radioactive?_ Look,' he said, 'it's not easy to explain, really. There are elements, some metals for instance, that emit energy as their atomic structure deteriorates. Simply put, they fall apart, some taking dozens of years, some millennia – ah, I see that look. What was the piece of information that you could place? Energy? Atomic structure?'

'Metal,' dead-panned Loki. 'Tell me, where does one find those eyes-or-drops?'

Erik scratched his head. 'They are very rare, actually.'

'Are they dug up in mines? Existing deep in the soil, to be discovered only by him who hunts for the inner secrets of the worlds?'

'Er, sure. But I believe they're nowadays produced by, er, alchemistic – '

'Brock,' said Loki, his eyes moving as if he were reading something that had been written on the thin air in front of him.

'Excuse me?'

'I thought this arrow was some new weapon of the Einherier._ Einherier?_ Never mind.' Loki paused a precisely timed two seconds to let the irony sink in. 'But it was the dwarves that fired it. The miserable traitor, he saw me escape but didn't know where to. So he puts poisonous metal into my veins. A "tracer", that's exactly what it is – a means of tracking me through time and space.'

'I suggest that you stay seated,' Erik said. 'It's safer for you.'

'Look, I'll put it simply,' Loki hissed, 'There's no safe place for me in the nine realms as long as my own blood is giving away my whereabouts.'

'So, what are you going to do?' Erik stared at the blade his patient suddenly held at him and thought how he was really exploiting his _let's-be-reasonable_-voices tonight.

'None of your business,' said the god. 'Leave this room.'

'Now, wait a min- '

_Thuck!_ The knife missed Erik by half an inch and stuck in the wall.

'Leave. This room.' whispered his patient. 'Simply put: Get out.'

Uttering some less-than-half-hearted protests, Erik moved backwards. He nearly collided with the women who chose this moment to enter. Erik ushered them out, promising to answer all questions, _but would they first close the door, please?_

Loki drew a deep breath.

His shoulder hurt and he thought about healing the wound all the way. But on second thought he decided against it: Sometimes, magic had to leave a body by the same way it had invaded it. If it turned out to be the case here, it would do no good, reopening a wound like that. He was not losing any more blood, and that had to be enough for now.

There were more important things to do, and time was running short.

Loki sat on the sofa and pulled out the book he had saved. The Asgardians would come to retrieve it. No point in trying to run. Not when they probably had Brock in their custody and knew about his insidious means of hunting down the fugitive. He'd better make the most of his remaining time and rip from the pages as much information as he could.

A bag on the low wooden table had caught his eyes before: It was made of blue tinfoil and read "Salted Peanuts". Something about the way the thing was made to look, the font, the color, the picture of smooth, yellowish seeds, suggested that the contents were meant for eating.

Loki reached in and pulled out a few peanuts. He looked at them from all sides. He smelled them. He licked his finger.

_Salty._

Cautiously, he put a peanut in his mouth and chewed.

_Yes. He approved of that taste.  
_

He propped his back against the armrest, put the book on his lap and wedged the bag of peanuts conveniently between his hip bone and the backrest. He stretched out his long legs on the cushions, crossed the ankles, opened the book and started to read.

There was a very small voice in the back of his head warning him that this was unheard of, an outrage. _A sacrilege._

But after the first couple of alliterative verses, the voice fell silent with awe and the desire to learn more.

Loki smiled evilly, popped some peanuts and turned a page.

* * *

'What is he doing in there?' Erik paced in front of the door, hands itching to grab the door knob. 'He can't just lock me out of my own parlor.'

'He just did,' said Jane.

'But I'm the one paying the rent!'

'I don't think he cares.'

'Jane, how can you be so indifferent? That's my computer and all our results in there with him. He could take copies of it or worse, mess with the hard drives – '

'No such thing,' said Darcy, peering through the keyhole. 'He's on the sofa, reading.'

'Darcy!' cried Jane. 'Get away from – '

'Waargh!' Darcy tumbled backwards, landing hard on her butt.

_Thwock!_

Suddenly, something metallic protruded from the keyhole just where Darcy's eye had been two seconds ago.

'A knife!' Darcy stared at the sharp point sticking out by two inches. 'The bastard threw a knife at me!'

'And hitting the door at right angles when the sofa's off to the left,' mused Jane. 'Well, I suppose he's a god.'

'_God-like_,' muttered Erik. 'Supernatural, maybe._ Extraordinarily gifted._ Anyone can learn to throw a knife with a certain spin...'

'I appreciate your down-to-Midgard approach toward things you don't understand, Erik Selvig,' Loki said from inside. 'I shall definitely get back to you. One day.'

They all could picture him smiling and turning a page.

'All right, so his hearing is above average, too,' whispered Erik.

Suddenly, there was a low sound, and the house began to shake.

'Oh-oh,' said Darcy.

'What's he doing now?' Giving Jane a _don't-even-think-about-stopping-me_ look, Erik turned the door knob and bolted into the room. He had not really expected the door to open, so he nearly stumbled when it did.

The sofa was empty, except for a bag of salted peanuts. Loki crouched by the window like he was taking cover from some threat. He peered over the window sill as he watched something going on outside. He did not object to his human company as they joined him, first Erik, then Jane, and finally, reluctantly, Darcy.

They huddled behind the window sill and gazed at the swirling clouds outside: More visitors were due to arrive.

But only Loki had a clue as to who they were: _Thor, an Amazon princess, three warriors, spoiling for fight and game for anything._

He moved his fingers a little.

Suddenly, there were a full dozen of Lokis standing on the lawn. Jane noted with dark amusement that they looked considerably more regal than the original in his present state. They wore helmets with long, arched horns and golden armor, and there was a smug superiority to their facial expression that the real Loki was far from feeling himself.

'This will hold them off for a few seconds,' he said, gasping a little.

'And after that?' asked Jane.

Loki shrugged, sizing her up. _The other female first,_ he decided. _Then, the man._ He would only swap shapes with Jane Foster, feed her to his enemies and make his escape looking like her, if nothing else worked. After all, she was Thor's flame, and he did not want to incur his brother's wrath by threatening her again. _Or get into an awkward situation in case the deception worked too well..._

'Look!' cried Erik, turning all eyes back to the window. 'There's someone – '

_Ff-whump._

' – emerging,' he finished, baffled. 'What the hell _is_ that?'

'That's a dwarf,' said Loki.

'What's left of him,' said Jane, staring at the bloody, mangled mass. 'You seem surprised? Whom did you expect?'

The cloud mouth continued to gape, and a soft rumble could be heard over the howl of the wind.

'About time,' mumbled Loki, eyes fixed expectantly on the vortex.

'Thor!' breathed Jane. She raced to the door as if the blonde thunder god might change his mind, turn on his heel and leave, if she didn't hurry.

He arrived with his warhammer in his fist, planting his feet firmly like an elemental force successfully earthed. With his first glance, he spotted the dead dwarf, one of Brock's warriors whom he had caught in the act of threatening Heimdall to open a pathway for them. He prodded the corpse with his toes and then, looking around himself, scanned the illusory Lokis for the real man. The movement of the door caught his eye, but his stern face immediately lit up.

'Jane Foster!' he beamed. He caught her, closed his strong arms around her and lifted her off her feet. She clung to his broad shoulders and allowed herself to be swung about like a girl. She had not felt this happy in a long, long time.

As they hugged, the images of Loki popped, one by one, like soap bubbles. They didn't notice. They only remembered the existence of the world outside, when Erik's voice reached them from the open window, 'Welcome to earth, mighty Thor! Boy, I'm glad to see you. What's an Aesir's average pulse rate, heartbeats per minute?'

Thor disentangled himself from Jane just far enough to answer, 'And greetings to you, Erik Selvig. Why do you require this knowledge?'

'Oh, it's just because your brother, Loki, he's here, as you may have figured, and he's – ' Erik looked at something going on at his feet, 'In fact, he's passed out. I'd assume he's fine, though. But I'd like to make sure.'

'Can't we just put him in a trunk in the attic and pretend we've never seen him?', asked Darcy, peeved. 'While there's still time? Then hit the road and leave it up to the next tenants?'

'Jane Foster?' Thor looked into her eyes. 'We should go inside.'

'I don't want to,' she confessed. 'But the ladder to the attic is tricky. Darcy will break her neck trying to haul your brother up.'

* * *

The first thing Thor realized when he came into the dark room was his brother's slumped form against the wall beneath the window. Loki clutched his left shoulder, while the fingers of his left hand moved feebly on the window sill as if probing for something to hold on to. He had not passed out as Erik had claimed. But he wasn't awake in the full meaning of the word, either.

'You're wounded, brother,' said Thor.

The wheezing reply, 'Dear me, I'd never have realized,' was just what he had hoped to provoke.

Thor's practiced eyes quickly scanned his brother's body, deciding on the least painful way to drag him up and help him get to the sofa.

Loki didn't want to be moved, for the obvious reason that it would hurt like Hel. But he knew better than to waste his precious breath on idle protest as Thor ducked under his uninjured arm and in getting up slowly, pulled him to his feet.

He could spit venom, though, and he did so abundantly while clinging to Thor's neck for support, 'Almighty Thor! So, you've come alone? What about the Warriors Three? Some Einherier to witness your great deeds? I know you love an audience, mighty thunderer, even if you're just slaying a couple of dwarves. But don't you worry: Songs will have it that they were armed to the teeth and with limbs of steel.' ('Mind the chair,' said Thor and simply kicked the obstacle away. Erik whimpered a little.)

'Does the Allfather not wish it to be known that a traitor may freely enter his kingdom and leave at leasure?' hissed Loki, 'Have you come to take me back to Asgard as a prisoner?'

Thor leaned forward to remove the peanut bag from the seat. He stopped, eyed the bag curiously and glimpsed inside. Loki gave him a venomous look and snatched it away. Then, he collapsed on to the cushions, breathing hard, his energy spent.

'I have not come to take you prisoner,' said Thor. 'And I don't care about the songs being sung about this day.'

He watched his brother, waiting for a reply. When none was made and Loki fished for a peanut instead, he said, 'The book, Loki. Do you still have it?'

'So that's what you want, eh?' Loki crumpled the peanut bag in his hand. 'To take back the book? Do _they_ think I couldn't do it? _Do you?_' He was closing up like an oyster, putting his feet on the edge of the sofa and cradling his knees to his chest as if to put more distance between himself and the other god.

'No. I didn't - ,' said Thor, surprised by the strong reaction, but Loki shook his head.

'Oh yes, you did,' he spat, speaking quickly and with almost manic intensity. 'It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Naturally, I was Frigga's choice for help when Brock's assassins were closing in on us – '

'Now, you're deliberately twisting – '

'But once the imminent danger was over, she decided she'd rather send her first-born, her _only-born_ son - '

'Loki, listen to - '

'After all, the secret wisdom of Asgard will become your heritage once you succeed Odin Allfather to the throne of – '

'SHUT UP!' Everyone jumped at Thor's great scream of rage. He reached out and grabbed Loki by the neck. It was a gesture meant to express his support, encouragement, consolation, depending on the situation, and right now, all three.

But what it mostly meant was this: _I'll take it from here. Know your place, little brother. Guard your tongue._

With the conditioned responses of several centuries of being the younger one, Loki fell silent.

'I have come on no-one's orders!' Thor's voice was deep and rumbled like angry thunder. 'I followed those treacherous dwarves to Heimdall's new observatory, those scoundrels bent on hunting you down. I slayed them all to stop them! I came here to find you, prepared to slay more if necessary! And I won't have you think for one single moment that I did it _because of a book_. Keep it in hiding, that precious volume, I care not!' His voice changed, becoming soft and almost pleading. 'What I did - what I am about to do – I'm doing it _for you_, my brother!'

'I – am – not your brother,' Loki whispered. He was trembling. But he held Thor's gaze, and it was the thunder god who looked away first.

'So you keep saying.' Thor sighed. 'But what about mother? And father? Will you deny them, too? Before you do, consider this: Bifrost is gone, Loki. Only Odin Allfather's will allows us to travel between realms now. It was his decision to send us both here. And in doing so he may have saved your life.'

'I didn't ask him to.' Loki snarled. 'But then, your father never exactly asked for my wishes to influence his decisions, did he?'

'What if he did?' asked Thor, following a sudden inspiration.

Loki gaped at him. 'Huh? What do you - ?'

'What is it you want, Loki? I've been wondering since that day I returned from earth and found you a friend turned into stranger and worse – an enemy. I'd really like to know what desire has spurred this great change. It seems I cannot see - '

'Of course you can't see.' Loki's tone had softened perceptibly. 'The shadow thrives only where the light doesn't reach.'

Thor frowned, 'You want a light?'

Loki closed his eyes. 'No,' he said strainedly, _'I do not want a light.'_

'A horse, then?' Thor pressed. 'A stallion with winged hooves that can carry its rider over water and clouds alike? Or maybe, a sword? A dwarven blade that will bleed three silver rings at each full moon? You name it, and I am sure the Allfather will give me permission to go and provide for – or is it – no, surely,_ it can't be!_' Thor's blue eyes widened, 'Loki, do you - do you want _a hammer_?'

He asked with great innocence, a little fearful of the answer, perhaps. But his words triggered a storm: Loki closed his eyes, slowly. The book shelves at the opposite wall shook and rattled, the computer equipment jumped on the desk and a screen imploded and went dead with a green flash. (Erik yelped, but Jane stopped him from stepping forward.) Loki clenched his fists, so hard his nails dug into his palms. He could feel Thor's gaze like a physical touch on his eye lids; the oaf was still waiting for a reply.

'Drop dead!' Loki whispered. Then, he lashed out with both hands, blindly, randomly. Peanuts spilled all over the carpet as the bag hit Thor's shoulder. The thunder god retreated, baffled. His brother's voice followed him, cutting, slicing, trying to hurt. 'Drop dead, Thor, why don't you, damn you! You found me changed? The only thing that had changed with your absence was the fact that I was on my own! I was finally able - and _required_ - to make my own decisions instead of following you blindly from one great mess into the next. Jotunheim was not the first desaster; but then, you didn't listen to me. You never listen to anyone, you get that from your father. But upon returning from your little earth escapade, you found me freed of the strings Odin and you put on me – '

'Loki, calm yourself!' Thor tried to grab Loki by the neck, but the other struggled and writhed to evade him.

'Keep your paws off me!' Loki snapped. 'I will no longer be treated like I was your puppet! I was able to make my own decisions, and it felt good - _so very, keenly, irresistibly good_! Drop dead, Thor, and give me back my life - give me _any life_ not doomed to linger in the places that are not yet filled with your bloated ego. For this is my wish, mighty thunderer: to be free of you, so go and get yourself killed, you big oaf, or drop dead here and now; _I care not_.' Realizing that Thor had abandoned his futile attempts to grab him, Loki curled in on himself, shuddering, and clasped his injured shoulder.

Thor stared at him. 'You are running a fever,' he mumbled.

'Drop dead,' Loki repeated, weakly.

Thor continued to stare at him, but his blue eyes were unseeing.

The humans shuffled uneasy and exchanged glances.

'Er...' said Darcy. 'Did any of you get what that was about?'

'I suppose it was some sort of Old Icelandic,' said Erik. ' I caught an old-fashioned word for "brother" and several words meaning "wish" or "desire", and, er, "death". The latter mostly from him,' he tilted his head at Loki.

'I've got siblings. I get the drift,' said Darcy.

'Thor...' said Jane softly, touching the blond Aesir's shoulder. Thor put his big hand on hers, silently thanking her for being there.

'This wound needs dressing,' he said. His voice sounded oddly human, due to a lack of resonance and modulation. 'We'll need hot water and linen. Preferably clean.'

Jane nodded. 'Come to the kitchen. You can help me heat some water.'

Thor looked up and some of his vitality came back to him at the prospect of being given _something to do_, 'Gladly, Jane Foster.'

'And while we wait for the water to boil, you can tell me what the hell's going on,' she said, strolling out of the room.

'I will make it a song worth caressing your ear,' he promised. His hand slid behind her back, but did not touch her.

'The way I see it, they won't be needing the stove,' mumbled Darcy, looking after the pair.

+++End of Chapter 3+++

* * *

A/N: This chapter grew longer than I intended, but I wanted to introduce Thor to the story at last. And then, his helpless attempts at making things right, set off Loki and I couldn't interrupt _that_, could I? :) I don't know when I will be able to update next, what with Christmas and New Year's Eve coming up and lots of stuff to do... but I will still appreciate reviews, so please comment :)


	4. Visions

Hi everybody. Thank you so much for following, liking and reviewing this story. I really didn't think I could have another chapter ready this year, but you guys have been such motivation, and it's amazing, the amount of extra-work you can get done when you cut back on sleep :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++Chapter 4: Visions+++

Thor watched Jane place a fresh bowl of water in the microwave and adjust the dial. 'What does this device do?'

'It brings the water to the boil.'

Thor observed with interest as the disc inside the microwave spun lazily, 'But there's no fire. No flames. No lightning.'

'It's a microwave oven. You can't see no flames.'

'But I can see _you_, Jane Foster,' he said, and the way he said it she couldn't have cared less that it was an awkward bridge for changing the topic. He opened his arms and somehow she was in his embrace, and there was a chair for him to sink on, and for her to come to sit on his lap, and -

_Bling._

'It's hot,' mumbled Jane.

'Aye,' murmured Thor against her neck. '_Hot._'

'The, er – the water.'

'Oh.' Thor let go and watched her bustling about. He listened to her talk incessantly, and he smiled a secret smile. He liked the way she felt embarrassed by a kiss she thought untimely. Because he knew that, not-so-deep down, she was not feeling embarrassed at all. And he had all the time (at least a nice large chunk of it) of the world. He could wait.

His gaze wandered casually over the cooking utensils. Obviously, Loki's arrival had interrupted the women in the act of preparing a meal.

He noticed a nice, high-quality knife.

_Got to do something to clean that wound, too..._

'Okay, so you know what to do, right?' Jane said, folding rectangular pieces of cloth and piling them on top of each other. 'Because, frankly, I don't. How many towels are you going to need? I've got five here, but there are more. Listen, how about fixating him or putting magic-blocking handcuffs on him or something? I mean, I don't know where to get magic-blocking handcuffs from, they probably don't sell these at the art supply store down the street, but – Thor?' Jane turned, looking for the source of the humming sound. 'Thor. What are you _doing_?'

He was standing at the microwave and watched the disc turn. 'I'm heating a knife in this invisible fire.'

'A knife? What knife? _Why?!_'

'I will use it to cauterize Loki's wound. My brother will not suffer from gangrene.' Thor banged his flat hand on top of the microwave in order to emphasize his determination. The knife inside slipped, and the blade came to lie with its point touching the microwave's metal inside. Instantly, fireworks of crackling white energy squirted out and set off in all directions.

'Ah,' said Thor, sounding satisfied. '_Now_ we've got some lightning.'

'Turn it off!' Jane dashed past him and hit the off-button herself. The disc stopped turning and the violent outbursts of energy died down. Jane counted to three, then opened the hatch. There were black lines tracing the line where the knife point had touched metal. Jane rubbed her finger at one of them: The soot could be removed. Probably no harm done. Still, she was angry, 'What was that about? You don't use a microwave to sterilize knives.'

'But Loki's wound must be cleaned with heat,' Thor insisted.

'This it what _we_ use,' said Jane, showing him an antiseptic spray she had already got out ready. 'Really, Thor. Putting a glowing blade to a man's skin is barbaric. And you complain about our "sick wards"?'

He put on a haughty face and crossed his arms. 'Who said so? I never "complained".'

'Well, "gave an unfavorable report", then. Loki mentioned something about it. He seemed pretty anxious not to be sent there.'

'In Asgard, a man is not put to sleep against his will.' Thor proudly straightened his back and the corners of his mouth went down. 'In Asgard, a man is allowed to take his stand and fight bravely and die on his feet, and his courage and stamina mark his quality as a warrior and go down into song.'

Jane's voice softened, 'Well, and in our world we've found out that, due to improper handling and lack of attention, most accidents occur at home. Meaning that you'd better read the manual before using the microwave again.'

'Man-you-al?' Thor scratched his blonde head.

Jane rolled her eyes in curious despair - and as she did, Loki and Darcy walked past the door behind Thor's back. Jane was too surprised to make a sound. Her finger went up, pointing. Thor raised his eyebrows quizzically and followed the hint. His eyes widened, too. He exchanged a look with Jane and both rushed to the door.

Loki and Darcy were moving at a slow pace, side by side. Darcy's left arm was behind Loki's back, for all appearances as much supporting him as guiding his way.

'That's it, Mister Extraordinarily Gifted,' she said, 'Just keep moving. _Theeere_ you go – '

'Darcy?' asked Jane. 'Where are you taking him? Where's Erik?'

Thor already grabbed his brother by the elbow, stopped him and turned him around. Loki did not resist, nor did he acknowledge Thor's presence. His green eyes appeared veiled, and his gaze went straight through the thunderer's massive form. Thor had seen that look and he mumbled a curse.

'Erik's somewhere about the backyard,' Darcy said, 'He suddenly remembered that there's a dead guy on the lawn, and he said he needed to do something about it before the neighbors got nervous. I say, "Don't let me alone with Mister Throw-a-Knife here", and he - ' she gestured at Loki, 'says, he'll simply sit down and read. He produces a book, real old stuff, and delves into it. Next thing I know, he informs me that he's seeing his dead mother and expresses his wish to vomit. So I thought I'd better get him to the bathroom and fast.'

'Now, why doesn't that surprise me?' said Thor and sighed. 'This book most likely contains the most powerful alliterative verses ever written down in all nine realms. I didn't know reading them silently could have this effect, but, well, given his condition... ' He gave his brother a shake, then prepared to slap him.

Darcy said, 'Hey, Thor, did your mother really get killed by an assassin?'

'Mother?' Thor's alert shifted from his unresponsive brother to the message he'd conveyed. He lowered his hand. 'What have you seen, Loki?' Again, he shook Loki by the shoulders. 'Talk to me, brother. What have you seen happened to Frigga?'

A spark of awareness shone up in Loki's eyes and settled there.

'Frigga,' he echoed. 'She's dead.'

His voice was flat as if he didn't care, when in fact the vision had given him an attack of severe nausea.

But that was before the magic took control of him, body and mind.

As things were, Thor was surprised and relieved to get a response.

'She's not,' he said. 'It was a dream. Only a dream.'

'She's dead!' Loki's pale face was unmoved. 'I've seen her. She's dead. Lying dead, on the floor of her room. Stabbed with a dagger.'

It crossed Thor's mind that you simply couldn't fight with Loki and hope to win. Not when the God of Mischief was awake and spoiling for a duel of words, but even less so when he was in a trance and knew what he had seen in that secret place of magic.

_Just accept it and put your effort into trying and control the damage._

'Who did it? Loki, tell me whom to stop, and I will go and stop him. You know I will. These visions, they need not come true.'

'Stabbed in the back with a dagger,' Loki repeated in that same strange voice. 'I don't know whose hand guided the blade.'

'You don't know because you can't see?' rumbled Thor, exasperated. 'Or are you just too damn self-centered again to be _bothered_ to see? Even when you know that half a minute of surrender could safe mother's life?'

Loki actually looked stricken, almost horrified, 'How can you_ say_ that?'

'Because I know,' Thor said sadly, 'I know that you loathe giving up control, so these things can get through to you.'

He was surprised when, instead of giving an acid or hurt reply, Loki actually_ focused. _He looked past Thor, at the shades in the far corner. His eyes moved as if he took in a scenario of shifting, moving forms instead of the square outline of a shoe locker and a pair of rubber boots sitting beside it. While his breath came in shuddering gasps, the humans and Thor held theirs, waiting.

'I do not see any clue as to the assassin,' Loki said. 'But I see_ you_, Thor Odinson. And Odin Allfather; you are mourning over her lifeless body.'

Thor could feel the lean frame in his grip start to shake.

'_You_,' Loki repeated. '_And Allfather._'

'Yes, but - is there something else you see?' Thor urged, wondering about Loki's point. 'Does the light give you any clue as to the time of day? Are Allfather or I changed in any way? Are there maybe flowers nearby to tell us whether it's spring, summer or autumn? Anything could be helpful.'

Loki moaned softly and shook his head. 'No flowers. No light. No way to change fate.' He looked up and into Thor's face. His eyes were large and dark, 'What about me, Thor?'

'What do you mean, "what about you"?' asked Thor, suddenly cautious. 'Loki? Is that fear in your eyes? What - '

'I should be by her side, too. But I can see only you and Allfather.' Loki shook his head vehemently and squirmed, striving to bring himself back. There was a voice at the back of his mind, a cold, mocking, ironic voice that he knew and refused to hear. 'Why am I not with her? Where am I in this dreadful scene – in that terrible hour?'

'Maybe you've already left to chase after the assassin?' Thor suggested.

Loki grimaced, 'Or maybe I left because I - '

_Because I was the traitor that pulled the assassin's strings._

_What did I do, show him the way?_

_Negligence or malice, you're perfectly capable of both,_ the sardonic voice inside his head mocked. _Which was it, trickster? On what whim did you condemn your mother to die?_

And Loki answered just as coldly, _She is not my mother._

The voice fell silent as if in consternation.

Suddenly, it all became clear - the dark corridor of the humans' house, the three mortals - the man had returned by now and was hushed by the females. Taste of bile in his throat, Thor's hand on his neck.

Loki pulled himself together, straightened his back, and with eerie calm said, 'I killed her.'

'No, you didn't,' said Thor. 'You didn't kill her. She's fine. But you're not. You radiate heat like you're burning up. So I don't think it's mojo of any sort, Loki, not necessarily, at any rate. Not all of it. If you ask me it could be just damn plain fever messing with your magic.'

Loki snorted derisively. 'How can a fever be _damn plain_ for someone like me?'

'It's there, and you're going to have to hang on somehow.' Thor gave a lopsided grin, 'That rates as _damn plain_ for me. Loki? You hear me?' But Thor could already see his brother's eyelids fluttering and knew that Loki was not yet through being turned inside out by his magic running rampant on him.

'_The snake!_' Loki's fingers clawed into Thor's shoulders. 'The snake above my head, dripping venom into my eyes,_ Thor, don't let them do it to me, don't let them -_ '

Silently, Jane stepped up from behind. She stretched a little and dumped the bowl of microwaved water right on Loki's head.

_Splash!_

Steam of hot water vaporized from Loki's suddenly wet hair that stuck to his scalp and neck. Thor watched as Loki's eyes glazed over and his jaw dropped open slightly: His brother no longer looked scared. Now, he looked _scared stiff_.

'I'm sorry,' said Jane, 'but he was getting too worked up.'

Loki's knees gave way and he collapsed as if a switch had been flipped. Thor caught him easily with one strong arm behind the lean god's back.

'You don't splash them with water when they're like that,' he said to Jane, slightly reproachfully as if it were evident, a piece of common knowledge. 'You don't do it to Odin Allfather when he's in Odinsleep. You don't do it to Frigga, and you don't do it to Loki or any other magic user who is caught in a state of trance, _never ever_.'

'Why not?' asked Jane, a little sulky. 'He's certainly much calmer now.'

'Mother tried to explain it to me, once: She said being splashed with water when in this state feels sort of like swimming in a sea that's hit by a fork of lightning.'

'Short-circuits them.' Erik nodded his head as if to say _I-knew-that_. He pinched the skin between Loki's limp fingers and observed the reflexes. 'And in a very thorough and effective way, I should say. How long will he be out?'

'I have no idea, my friend,' said Thor, sliding his arm behind Loki's knees and picking him up. 'Long enough for us to tend to his wound, hopefully.'

Followed by Jane, Darcy and Erik, he carried Loki back to the sofa and started to get the bloodstained falcon shirt off. With a little help from Jane, he peeled Loki out of the heavy leather coat. Next, they tackled the harness and the shirt underneath. Loki was a boneless thing in their hands, although he seemed to regain a stage of semi-consciousness at their continuing pushing and tugging.

Jane sprayed some antiseptic on the wound, aware of Loki's soft gasp and Thor's critical stare. Following Thor's instructions, she applied a wad of gauze bandage to the wound and fixed it. Then, since her care obviously meant so much to Thor, she grabbed a towel and started to rub dry the trickster's wet hair. Darcy left for the bathroom, and two minutes later, conversation had to be made over the noise of the blowing hairdryer: Jane knelt behind the armrest and directed the stream of hot air from above at Loki's head. It was probably just another proof of the god's sorry condition that he weathered the storm roaring and whipping his hair round his head without so much as batting an eyelash.

Erik stepped up to Thor who sat on his haunches beside the sofa and with his hands limply on his knees, 'Here. Put that on his brow for a minute.'

'What's that?' Thor eyed the slip of plastic that Erik had given him.

'A thermometer. A small machine that will tell us exactly how high his fever is.'

'Maybe he's just exhausted himself,' Jane suggested, turning the hairdryer off. 'Creating twelve illusory doubles of oneself must use up a lot of energy.'

'I think it's rather the effect of being isotopically labelled by this druid, Brock,' said Erik, and found everyone staring at him.

'Is that the medical expression for getting one's brain removed and put back in upside down?' asked Darcy. 'Like these aliens did to Mister Spock in that stupid episode?'

'No, it means that the arrow was rigged, and he's suffering the effects.'

'Like feeling like getting his brain removed and put back in upside down?' Darcy was relentless. She cast a glance at the sofa. 'Of course, if he really is _The Loki_ some might say that has already happened. Shit, Jane, what have you done?'

Jane moved her hand through Loki's now reasonably dry hair, smoothing out a strand here and there.

'The idea was to prevent him from catching a cold,' she said, somewhat stiffly. 'Styling him was not exactly top priority.'

'Yes, but he looks_ like a friggin' girl._' Darcy couldn't keep her eyes off the dazed god, whose hair came down shoulder-length, full and wavy like a dark angel's curls. 'I swear he's going to kill you for that!'

'He'll have other things to worry about when he wakes up,' said Erik, reading the thermometer. 'Like, thinking about which one of your family to offer a sacrifice for creating him the supernatural that he is. Any mortal running his fever would be in a coma by now.'

'Loki won't offer sacrifices. He's used to receiving them,' Thor said, adding silently to himself,_ Usually makes quite a show out of it. _He got up and and touched his hand to his hammer. 'Shall I go find a willow? Mother says there's nothing like willow bark tea against a high fever.'

'I'd rather suggest you make him take two of these,' said Jane and tossed Thor a small box. 'Willow bark in compressed form, if you want.'

Thor opened it and produced a piece of foil with ten white pills sealed in. 'He won't accept human medicine.'

Jane handed Thor a glass of water. 'You're his brother, are you not? You've got to know a trick or two to make him eat.'

Thor thought, then nodded slowly. He pressed two pills through the foil, lifted Loki's head somewhat and said something in that low, reassuring rumble and strange mother tongue of his. He gave the pills to Loki, who sleepily took them into his mouth. He didn't exactly look thrilled, though, when his teeth cracked the thin hull of sugar coating and the taste of medicine spread in his mouth. He sat up bolt upright, wanted to speak, was seized by violent coughing, snatched the glass of water from Thor and knocked it back.

'I told him these were Salted Peanuts,' said Thor guiltily.

'Well, don't you start feeling bad,' Jane said. 'He's given you more than just two bitter pills to swallow.'

Glaring at them and still out of breath, Loki settled back. He seemed about to comment, but his visions caught up with him and he closed his eyes again.

'How do we know that won't kill him?' asked Darcy.

'We don't,' said Jane. 'That's why we'll take turns sitting by his side.'

Darcy was alerted, 'And if he dies while I sit by his side?'

Jane shrugged, 'Start making a song of it.'

* * *

Sneaking into the world of humans was easy, if you knew the secret tunnels.

And if you had learned to evade the horseless carriages that usually thundered over the exit.

Brock was careful to protect his head as he lifted the manhole cover and climbed out of the sewer into the darkness of a side alley. He had been to earth quite often, starting at a time when a curious people with strange ideas about the afterlife set its collective mind to building large triangular-based monuments to bury their kings in.

Brock had helped them with the blue prints, and he had even supervised some projects of his own in the Valley of the Kings. On his building sites, workers never slowed down, not even for a second: The druid knew how to ensure their loyalty and effort.

He had returned on several occasions afterwards, visiting Jerusalem shortly before the crusades, London during the plague years, Spain at the onset of the inquisition and France on the eve of the Grand Terreur, and he was entitled - and even proud - to say that he had left his mark on this realm.

He had ceased his visits with the arrival of steam boats and engines. He was not only a druid, but a blacksmith by profession. To him, locking fire into large cauldrons seemed terribly dishonest, the deed of a coward too weak to handle the primeval force of the forge.

When he first saw a car he thought it a giant metallic bug, not unlike the dragonfly contraptions he had invented to take care of flying enemies. He had got hit by one, once, and learned that they were, quite unspectacularly, steered by mortals.

He'd also learned to walk only when the green figure indicated that its was safe to cross the street.

He stopped at the curbstone along with a dozen other pedestrians, all of which were almost twice his height. He pushed aside the temptation to make them kneel before him. His business today was with a certain god and Asgard's treasure said god had tried to remove from his, Brock's, reach.

_Besides, any person wanting to rule this ludicrous realm with its lunatic inhabitants would have to be a complete nutcase himself, wouldn't he?_

Brock locked his eyes on the red figure demanding them to wait.

There were two females nearby, young and supple. Probably of the enjoyable profession, judging by the appetizing way their legs showed under their short skirts.

Brock did not even try to conceal his stare. He was four times the age of the average dwarven youth founding a family. But he could still sire sons, oh yes. Prove of that was being delivered time and again. And half-breeds were the most interesting of them all. You could never guess what their talents would be and how their powers evolved.

The females noticed him.

'Look,' the blonde said, a little louder than necessary. 'Isn't he one of those Lord of the Rings characters?'

Well, in fact Brock had forged many a ring with wondrous qualities, Allfather's gem Draupnir being not the least of them. And he felt vaguely flattered by being called a Lord. Even though they didn't know anything about him yet (and never would, even when he came to spirit their children away to be raised in his own realm and left changelings in their place), they certainly had an eye for quality.

'I think his name's Gandalf,' said the dark-haired to her friend, and that, of course, was incorrect information. But with Gandalf being one of the First-Created of his people and therefore ranking among the dwarven nobles, Brock still felt duly honored.

And then, the blonde female said, 'But he's so small!'

And her dark friend pointed at his staff, saying, 'Oooh, but don't you know, in his case it's the size of his staff that matters, really it does', sending the blonde into wild giggling bouts which she tried in vain to conceal behind her hands.

Fury grabbed Brock and prepared to spread like the ripples from a stone that is cast into a calm sea, sweeping away the females, the pedestrians, the cars and most of the city and countryside, too.

But first, he would make them kneel. So he could look them in the eye and let them perish screaming and mindless at the sight of five thousand years of ruling supreme in the realm of dark magic staring out at them.

He wielded his staff, and at that moment the traffic light changed to green. The girls started to cross the street and were lost in the crowd. Brock received a blow to the back and a shove in the ribs, he stumbled and was push forward again. Then the myriad of legs cleared away and he found himself staring in the wrong direction.

He turned, cursing this realm, and its females, and its pedestrians – and found that the light had turned to red once more, and the horseless vehicles were on the move again, a roaring, stinking, metallic river blocking his way to Asgard's treasure and so much more.

_Revenge_.

+++End of Chapter 4+++

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it for this year. I really enjoyed writing this, especially the bit about soaking Loki which was more or less spontaneous and had me applauding to Jane. :) Always sort of wanted to do that, especially when he claims that there's no way he could change the way things turn out. I'll be hovering near my notebook, please feel free to comment. :)


	5. Reminicences

Hi, everybody. This story seems to be writing itself, although this fast update is owed to Bibi. She texted last night, I was just about to turn in. She made a remark about Thor and Loki, and I thought, okay, there is still time to take another look at the dialogue you've written yesterday. Only a short look, because it's really late and you're really tired...

It became a long night, after that. :)

This chapter contains some hints at the "Avengers" movie that I had not seen coming up when I started this. I'd assume most of you watched it. For the others: These are not really spoilers, more like hints at a synopsis. Perhaps you will want to watch it, afterwards :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++ Chapter 5: Reminiscences+++

Thor couldn't help it: Sitting by a sickbed, worried and unable to do anything useful, was not in his nature. He was a god of action, he yearned to make some noise.

He told Jane he_ had to_ make some noise.

Of course, he had not told her in these words. He had rather mumbled something about duties to perform on this planet, cosmic responsibility, something like that.

And now, a veritable thunderstorm was raging about the house and shaking the very earth, or so it seemed. Lightning ripped open the sky, gusts of wind tore at trees. Heavy clouds chased each other, sometimes illuminated by the leaden light of the crescent moon filtering through. Rumbling thunder reverberated in the bones of living things that crouched in holes, nests and beds.

The roof creaked.

Jane raised her head and looked up at the dark ceiling. Her mother always told her not to turn on electricity during a thunderstorm. It was probably old-fashioned knowledge in these modern times, but Jane still kept it that way. She waited. The roof seemed not about to come down over her head. So, she turned her eyes back to the glowing display of her cell phone. She had expected to get some work done after all, some texting and emailing at least. But –

'Come on,' she muttered. 'Connect.' She thumbed the touchscreen, moving it this way and that. 'Come on, there has to be some freaking satellite still intact up there. _Has to._ Let's see some signal.' She held the cell phone to her ear. '_Receive, damn you!_'

No use. The magnetic disturbances of Thor's unleashed weather phenomena had killed reception as effectively as her bowl of water had knocked out his brother.

She wondered how Loki managed to stay so peacefully asleep. In the greenish light of her cell phone's display she could even see him smile faintly in his sleep and snuggle deeper into the cushions. Behind him, the shadows of storm-shaken trees moved on the wall.

_The shadows..._

Suddenly uneasy, Jane whipped round, almost certain of a movement behind and to the left of her.

There was nothing save the other chair, the one by the desk.

Which scraped a bit over the floor as she looked at it. Or did it? Jane squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them quickly. The chair stood motionless.

'Who's there?' asked Jane sharply.

'Jane Foster?' That was Thor from the other room. 'Is something the matter?'

Jane's eyes flickered over to Loki.

'I'm fine,' she answered in a hushed voice, knowing that Thor could hear her just the same. 'Just my senses playing tricks on me.' She kept watching her charge, as she spoke: Loki showed no signs of waking.

_Good. Please, please stay like this just a little longer. This will take only a second -_

Softly, Jane got up and padded through the corridor on silent feet. She opened a door and entered a small guest room featuring a king-size bed, a cupboard and an old, brocade armchair with floral design. That was it. Stuffy, and not much space for more. Jane had offered Thor a bigger, better furnished room – heaven knew this house had more than enough of them – but he claimed that he didn't need it for staying in. He just wanted to have a little privacy while he directed his orchestra of thunderclaps and lightning. A privacy that Jane was sorry to intrude upon. Nevertheless, she spotted the god by the opposite window and said to the red caped back, 'Do you think you could bring a comm satellite back online? I'd really like to make some calls.' She remembered that he'd probably not know what she was talking about, so she added, 'Those large metallic objects orbiting the planet really far up...'

'Satellites,' said Thor without turning around. 'I am aware of their existence. Have patience, Jane. Right now, the ionosphere is alive with electromagnetic fields that are absorbing and overriding the feeble signals sent out by your fragile devices.'

'_You don't know about a microwave oven, but you know satellites?_'

'The keep getting in my path,' Thor said. 'Of course I'd learn about them. What they are, what they do. What they don't do any longer when _I_ get in _their_ path.'

Jane bit her lower lip, 'Okay. In your own time, then. I mean, it's only my current project leader waiting for me to report in. No big deal, I guess...for a god like you. I'll just tell him it was because of the thunderstorm.'

'It is only the truth,' Thor said, but he was clearly distracted.

_Never stand between a Knight of the Round Table and his self-imposed duty._ Who was it that had said that? Oh yes. Prince Valiant.

_Guys were all the same,_ Jane decided, _but somehow, these guys from graphic novels seemed even more so._

She turned and headed back for the living room, leaving Thor to stand by the window and watch the raging elements.

He kept his arms crossed, Mjolnir in his fist, and five strong mortal men could not have moved him. But the better part of him was literally out there, racing with the clouds, whip-lashing the sky with lightning, channeling the thunderbolts. He relished it; he breathed the crackling energy, he sucked it deep into his supernatural core.

_Oh, yes._

There was nothing like becoming one with a decent storm for stress reduction.

Lightning struck, and Thor shook his blonde head like a lion and let out a roaring scream of power that mixed with the thunder.

Somewhere in a neighbor's garden, a potted plant toppled over and crashed to the ground. A bucket rolled and clattered down the street. A great bird streaked past, its voice lost on the howl of the wind.

Behind Thor, Jane started forward and moved over to the king-size bed. If her bare feet made any noise it could not be heard over the raging storm. She slid on to the bed and lay on her side. She watched Thor silently, her cheek resting on the back of her hand. Her eyes were pools of darkness on which the reflections of lightning danced like St. Elmo's fires. She seemed to drink in his power, to use it in a mysterious way to fuel a dark fire within her own soul as she watched.

Motionless.

Knowing.

Thor felt her gaze on his back and remembered the void in Loki's eyes as the master magician looked at places beyond this world. Memories came to him, of the days during childhood when his brother, his visionary powers developed but still beyond his conscious control, had been haunted by terrible dreams. Dreams of being abandoned in a cold, dark place, discarded like a bundle of rags and left to die. Dreams that made Loki sit up in bed, screaming, drawing them all to his bedside in the dead of night: the guards, maids, servants, gods.

Things got so bad that Frigga feared the young, inexperienced sorcerer might lose himself in that place forever; that he would not be able to return from the realm of magic. But (with him being Jotun and Odin Allfather being very strict on keeping that fact a secret _at all costs_) she had no solution to offer, until the boys took it into their own small hands: Kneeling on the steps of Odin's throne, Loki asked that he be allowed to sleep in Thor's room. He claimed (with merely a hint of his usual mockery; the slender boy was at the limits of his endurance and his voice was brittle) that he could never entirely lose track of the real world with Thor snoring beside him like the Fenris wolf turned loose on them. Allfather turned his gaze on his older son, seeking his opinion on Loki's plea. Thor, who was silently enraged by being compared to an enemy of Asgard, still played his part and claimed that he could put up with a little nightly terror._ If,_ he added (and this had not been agreed on in advance and earned him a furious glance from flashing green eyes), if Loki was prepared to put up with the occasional frog or slug under his covers at bedtime.

They had not slept much, that first night; they were pillow-fighting so hard.

Anyway, before long Thor even allowed the younger boy to snuggle under his blankets whenever Loki felt his personal demons stalking him once again.

Everyone thought it very nice of Thor.

Thor, however, thought it a means of survival: Despite his initial boasting, he soon grew tired of being jolted awake time and again by those fearful cries from the other bed. From there on, Loki spent most nights with his head tucked under the sheets, his brother's calloused hand clamped on his mouth and a whispered threat in his ear, 'If you make one more sound I'll tell father and the others that you're a big sissy. And you'll never get to fight the Jotuns...'

- Now, several hundred years and a couple of precious lessons about Jotuns later, Jane Foster asked quietly, 'Still worried sick about your brother... Yours really _is_ a faithful dog's heart, isn't it?'

Thor left his place by the window and walked around the bed. He climbed on it, leaned over Jane, brought his lips close to her ear and slid his hand on her mouth.

'I could break your neck now,' he told her softly. 'But would that stop that snake tongue of yours from spilling poison on every noble feeling of care and friendship you encounter?'

Beneath his hand, Jane smiled.

* * *

Jane returned to the living room and cast a dutiful glance in Loki's direction. The god was still asleep. He was probably the only living thing on the planet to feel perfectly safe and protected as the skies above were torn apart. Loki could afford to lower his guard because Thor kept up his, daring the world to come and challenge him.

Jane studied the pale face, the dark, wavy hair and did not miss to notice the soft eyelashes quivering with dream: Darcy was right, there was something decidedly feminine to this guys' looks. Especially when all the lines of suspicion and acid sarcasm had been smoothed by poor illumination and unconsciousness. He looked like sleeping beauty, just too perfect to be alive.

Waxen.

_Hypnotic..._

Jane woke with a start and realized that she had almost fallen under the resting god's spell. Joined him in the land of dreams.

Which was not exactly the place where you wanted to meet Loki, who was difficult enough to handle when the laws of physics and reality were reliable and in good working order.

Jane noticed that the storm had calmed down. Maybe it was the sudden quiet that had roused her.

In the silence, she thought she heard Thor's voice. It reached her ear as an indistinct mumble. Was he reciting an incantation to influence the storm? Praying? But what deity would he be praying to? His father, maybe? Was he delivering his report to Asgard by means of magic?

_Magic!_

Jane suddenly sat up, wide awake: There was another voice in the room with Thor, she could hear it if she really strained. It was low and muffled, but Jane felt the back of her neck tingle. With Erik and Darcy retired, there was no one in the house to talk to the thunder god, except... A weird thought crossed Jane mind, and she leaned forward to touch her comatose patient.

Her hand went straight through Loki's face and instead met the cool, soft pillow that was supposed to be supporting his head.

His body dissolved, leaving nothing but darkness.

Jane swore under her breath: She had been tricked after all, but not by her senses!

* * *

Thor could feel Jane guffaw and smile under his hand, the pressure of her teeth against his palm.

She offered only that. No resistance. No movement.

'What's wrong?' Thor growled like a maddened bear. 'Aren't you going to try and stab me?'

More smiling under his hand. Jane shook her head and murmured into his palm: no.

He released her and leaned on his elbows. She was facing away from him, but he was not surprised to find that the hair had changed in both, color and style.

'Don't you dare do that ever again,' he rumbled. 'Not her form. Not Jane!'

'Don't you leave me to linger alone on some sofa, ever again,' whispered Loki. 'Not here. Not in this realm.' He blinked for the first time since he had sneaked in. The secret bond that had allowed him to draw strength from Thor's display of power had snapped._ If it had ever existed._ 'I need you to stay with me, Thor.'

'What for?'

Loki rolled over to lie on his back and pressed the heels of his hands on his eyes, 'I killed Heimdall, Thor. I saw myself do it. We met on a field of battle, he and I, and I felled him with a sword of ice.' He had kept his act together bravely so far. But now words came so fast he started stuttering, getting them out so they wouldn't choke him, 'I also killed Baldur, I, I, I, think I spelled a mistletoe or something and, and there's this human city of high buildings and a "stark" tower, and that man in a flying red armor, a-a-and I really need you to take care of me, brother, because the Chitauri are out to get me - '

'The – Chitauri,' said Thor in his best "pray, tell-me-more" tone of voice.

'An army of ugly mind-controlling insect monsters from outer space come to wreak havoc on earth. I rule them.'

'Ah,' said Thor dryly. '_Them_.'

Loki removed his hands from his face. 'Sounds weird?' he asked, wearily.

'Loki, I believe you just said you were ruling over an army of ugly mind-controlling insect monsters from outer space come to raze what the humans call Manhattan. At least that's what I was able to catch. You tell me if that is weird or not.'

Loki blinked and nodded curtly to himself. 'Weird,' he agreed.

'I think you really need to get some rest,' Thor said, seeing his brother look a little more confident. 'A good night's sleep, I mean. Not that drifting in and out you've been practicing since I arrived here.'

'Another pearl of wisdom that I wouldn't have gathered on my own. Oh, by the way, what do you know about large bulky green monsters jumping up buildings and slamming people around like rag dolls? Just asking. Because I seem to find myself feeling slightly worried about them...'

Thor was busy pulling out the blanket from under them, 'They're nothing to worry about. Really. If they come, you just tell them you're a god and won't be bullied by them.'

Loki looked doubtful, 'I'm not sure if that is the best course of – '

'Say it with conviction and watch them cower,' Thor insisted. 'Monsters usually are dull creatures. No guts. Unless you spill them, of course. Go to sleep.' Thor reached over to cover his brother with the blanket. The king-size mattress made him shift a little more than he had intended to.

'Hey!' Loki clutched at the sheet and shoved back, 'Don't crowd me.'

'I'm sorry,' Thor said, backpedaling on the soft ground. 'Seems we've sort of grown out of sharing a bed and being comfortable about it.'

'Don't need you to be comfortable,' mumbled Loki. 'Just need you to stay by my side_._'

Thor shifted again, this time to get up, and so did the mattress under him.

Loki shoved harder, '_By my side, Thor._ Not on top of me_._'

Thor put more effort into getting away and getting up and was irresistibly sucked back to the center of the mattress. His elbow connected with Loki's head and his knee dug into his brother's thigh.

'Ouch,' protested Loki. 'Now, why do I suddenly feel it's not _green_ bulky monsters I need to fear?'

'Sorry. This bed, it's a bit bouncy.'

Loki started to struggle for real, '_Bouncy?_ You get "bouncy" with Sif or that Jane Foster-woman but not with - '

'Who do you call "that woman"?!'

'Hello, Jane,'said Thor. He craned his neck to see her – the real her - standing there in the door, a beautiful silhouette against the light. The expression on her face was curious for the God of Thunder and priceless for the God of Mischief: Loki giggled, then laughed, and now it was him who rolled over and came to lie on Thor's chest.

'Ooof,' said Thor, involuntarily closing his arms around the other god. 'Loki? Brother, are you alright?'

'Thor? What is your brother doing there – with you – in that bed?'

'Talk to me, Loki. What's the cause of this sudden hilarity?'

'_shh...hee, heehh - '_

'She? Who is "she"? Jane?'

' - and with your arm around him?' Jane's voice rose dangerously in pitch.

'Loki,' begged Thor, 'What's so funny?'

'I am sorry if I intruded, but you forgot to hang up the "Do not disturb" sign...'

'Loki? Are you breathing?!'

Jane exploded, 'What's up with you two, anyway?'

Thor turned to Jane, trying to explain, 'This mattress is – '

'No, please,' gasped Loki, leaning heavily on Thor. 'Don't say it!'

' – bouncy. What? _What?!_'

Loki collapsed again. He struggled to get a grip, this fit was starting to hurt. But every time he regained some sort of control, he was forced to suck in air and the whimpering, wheezing noise of his own violent attempt at breathing set him off again. He took his fingertip in his mouth and bit down on it.

'Thor,' said Jane. 'Can I have a word with you?'

'Speak freely. But speak up a little.'

'_In the kitchen_, Thor!'

'But I promised I would not – ' Thor had disentangled himself enough to flash his brother a hasty glance. Loki's finger had red bite-marks on it, but he seemed to recover.

'You go with her, Thor.' Loki snuggled down with his hand under his cheek. The laughing fit left him feeling cozy and pleasantly light-headed. There were no more unbidden visions to fight against and, at least for the moment, no concerns of any kind, and he thought he had almost forgotten how_ good_ that felt. 'Have all the words you want. If you need me – ' he yawned with his eyes closed, ' – just b-bounce on the ma-mattress.'

Thor rose to a sitting position and looked down at his prone brother, 'You know, last time I've seen you like this we were all dressed up as women. Pretending to be Sif's maids of honor to fool that giant who had stolen Mjolnir and demanded her for his wife as a ransom for returning it.'

Chuckling, Loki gathered the blanket about himself and pilfered Thor's pillow.

'Thor – ' said Jane, not caring to lower her voice.

'There was a guy with a lute under our window singing love songs to Fandral,' Thor went on, now talking to Jane since his brother's eyes didn't open again. 'Volstagg wanted to scream at him to get lost, and as he inhaled to do so, his impressive fake bosom split the seams of his nightgown. All the way down to his hairy navel.' The thunder god chuckled, and the half asleep trickster on the bed giggled lazily into the pillow. Jane looked from one to the other and felt she was being told that she had missed the time of her life four hundred years before she had actually been born. 'The lute player fainted from the sight. But Fandral cried "How could you scare him like that, you klutz!", smashed Volstagg in the head with a vase and threw his gallant the flowers, which Loki turned into chocolate pudding as they flew...'

'I'd planned to do blueberry cheese cake,' Loki defended himself, his eyes closed, 'But I couldn't remember the recipe in all that bedlam.' He spoke around a yawn that threatened to break his jaw. 'Besides, I was drunk.'

'That night we all fell asleep laughing.' Thor smiled broadly with the memory. 'Loki? Why can't we reminisce these good old times more often, you and I?'

Loki raised his shoulders and relaxed them again. He seemed to exhale his spirit along with his breath, and was fast asleep within seconds.

'Now, did that mean "you don't know"? Or "you don't care"?' Thor sighed. 'Probably both...'

'Thor?' said Jane. 'What was that he said about you and Sif?'

* * *

Brock had finally found what he was sniffing for: Amid the stink of the human city, smells of sweat, skin, hair, ozone, tar, burning wood, hot stone, the indescribable stench of the vehicles and a million other scents, there was the note of the special metal he had used to rig his warriors' arrows.

The God of Mischief was nearby, one, maybe two Asgardian leagues to the west of Brock's current location.

As was his custom, Brock summoned an eagle to carry him there.

After waiting for half an hour, he grudgingly faced the fact that in this world eagles were a rarity and not easily available. Even if one had heard and obeyed his silent call, it would take the bird several hours to get here.

A thunderstorm broke and only a quickly cast spell saved the druid from getting drenched. He did not need to scan the angry clouds with his magical senses to tell that the older Odinson brother was present, too. But which was Thor's purpose? His brother was exiled, it didn't make sense that Odin would send his older son to help the prodigal.

_But surely, he would send his strongest warrior to retrieve the book -_

Brock knew he must hurry. The sudden thunderstorm probably meant that Thor was already battling his runaway brother. Loki would not hold out against him for long. Already, it might be too late, the book out of Brock's reach.

The druid decided to hurry. He considered turning into a bilgesnipe for speed, then thought that it would draw too much attention. Instead, he took on the form of a slickerfur, the horror of each tunneling dwarf, especially if they came in hordes.

Four-legged, with powerful teeth and covered in slick, dark hair, Brock found that this form served to put fear into the hearts of humans as well. Of course, he did not stop to mess with them. It was enough to hear their shrieks of terror as he streaked past them.

The slickerfurs' advantage lay in their numbers, in their vicious intelligence, in their speed: Brock covered the distance effortlessly, leaving the city limits behind and racing along a tarred street. His breath came in aggressive hisses, strong claws hit the ground in a constant staccato.

Until he suddenly lost contact.

He twisted and turned to look up: The eagle had arrived at last and was carrying him up and away.

But it wasn't carrying him in due respect and servitude. The bird had come a long way, and through a heavy thunderstorm, and it was hungry.

Instinctive fear seized Brock. He buried his teeth in the bird's leg. The eagle screeched and let go of its prey.

The slickerfur landed hard, on what seemed to be the roofless back of a passing vehicle. The face of a small human boy was only one tall man's stride away. Brock could see the child press his nose against the backseat window and heard his excited cry, 'Dad. Dad! It's raining rats!'

'Maybe one got on with the old tyres,' a male voice answered. 'The dog will take care of it later.'

The dog?

_Oh yes, here it was:_ Leashed to the side of the truck, a large German shepherd wrinkled its nose, sniffed once – twice - and bared its teeth.

The eagle was circling, keeping up with the slowly moving truck.

At least, they were moving in the right direction.

Taking cover among the load, Brock reflected on his past encounters with the Asgardians. Dealing with Thor and Loki had had its own challenges, schemes, glory and loss, for all parties involved. But whatever the Odinson brothers did - Brock was pretty sure neither of them had ever needed to huddle between a ragged scarecrow and a pile of smelly old workers' clothes in order to avoid being eaten by an eagle, while facing the prospect of being killed by a dog to the cheers of a human boy child.

The Odinson brothers were so different in their ways and yet so joint in their approach to this realm. Each in his own fashion, they adapted to the madness like it could be an everyday place to live in. They strutted in and out of this realm like princes, and whatever they encountered, they looked at it from all sides, eyes wide and curious, ears pricked up and whiskers quivering, so to say. Wondering what it did, what it was able to do and how it could be made to do it in their service.

And then they made it serve them, whatever it was.

And they never looked stupid, or ridiculous, or pathetic about it, not for a single moment.

Simply by watching Thor and Loki play their game, Brock understood that he was a relic from a time long outdated, and they were the ones meant to survive.

Theirs were the songs that were to be sung for a very long time to come.

And Brock hated them for it.

+++End of Chapter 5+++

* * *

A/N: I know this chapter has not done much to forward the story. But it was so much fun to write, especially the "bedroom scene". I didn't know it would wind up with Loki laughing his head off, until he did. :) According to legend, it was Freya, not Sif, that the giant claimed as his bride in order to return Thor's hammer. And, since there are no Warriors Three in the Edda, it was only Thor and Loki dressing up as women and going there to retrieve the Mjolnir. But I can see the six of them now, Sif trying to make everything look normal about her "maids", and...well, somehow, it obviously worked out :)

Thanks to all reviewers and followers - everyone, please follow their example and comment/tag :)


	6. Initiative

Hi, everybody. Thanks to my reviewers, and to each of you following me along. I look forward to hearing from you. Reviews and "alerts" make my day (which I spend figuring out new ways to vex our favorite villain) :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++Chapter 6: Initiative+++

'So I understand that in this realm it's unseemly for men to seek rest in the same bed.' Sitting on a chair in the kitchen, Thor looked up at Jane. His conclusion was the result of excessive, awkward explanation on her part.

She rolled her eyes, 'I didn't say that – I mean, of course it's okay if you – '

'If you are forced to spend the night at an inn, and there's only one bed available?' Thor suggested.

'No, these situations are kind of rare nowadays.' Jane inhaled deeply. 'My fault, I guess. I just didn't expect to find you hugging him.'

'Why not? He's my brother.'

Jane wished he'd put his questions with less innocent curiosity and deign to get her drift.

'That's just my point,' she said. 'The two of you are brothers, and so – and _therefore_ – good heavens, Thor, is it really so hard to understand? I thought - '

'Oh. I see.' Thor said, and then, eyes widening, '_Oh!_ You_ thought_ - ?'

'Sometimes, I can't help it,' Jane said defiantly.

Thor watched her with mischief in his eyes, reflecting on how she was unlike every woman he'd ever known. 'To think that Loki and I - Jane Foster, you truly are one of a kind,' he said, grinning. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her over. For one moment it seemed that she would resist. But she ended up perched on his lap just the same.

'How dare you?' she asked, a little breathless.

'How dare I – what? Tell the truth to your face?' The twinkle never left his blue eyes. 'A face so beautiful must never confront anything but the beauty of words that are spoken with sincerity - '

'_I'm going to freak out._'

'Huh?' Thor and Jane turned to find Darcy standing in the door. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, 'What're you two doing still up? Don't you guys ever rest?'

'Well, what are _you_ doing up?' asked Jane.

Darcy pointed her thumb over her shoulder: Erik was but two steps behind her and eager for action.

'Okay, everybody,' he said and rubbed his hands. 'The chest freezer's empty. Thor, I'm afraid I must ask you to move your brother once more.'

'I'll carry him all the way to Asgard, if need be,' Thor said.

'Chest freezer?' Jane got up so Thor could stand up as well and head for the bedroom. 'What do you mean, "chest freezer"?'

'Well,' Erik said, 'the painkillers obviously don't work on him. His fever would've broken by now, if they did. So, I've been thinking of the old songs: What do they teach us about these Norse guys' physical bodies? That they are not so different from ours, of course, only more endurable. Meaning, they get hungry, they breathe, they sleep, they are affected by heat or cold...'

'I know, and I admit I was thinking of an ice bath,' said Jane. 'But the chest freezer? Isn't that just plain overkill?'

' "Kill" being the operative word,' added Darcy.

'No such thing. He's immortal enough to weather a little cold,' said Erik. 'Look, someone had to take the initiative and do _something_. I'll explain once our patient has arrived.'

* * *

Thor entered the bedroom and was not entirely surprised to find Loki with his eyes open. The God of Mischief's resilience to succumbing to anything resembling rest was legendary. At one time, he had driven even Frigga to throwing up her arms and claiming aloud that he was harder to take care of than a nest of young bilge snipes bent on trampling off in all directions.

Hearing Thor enter, Loki turned his head on the pillow and looked at him, detachedly.

'How do you feel?' Thor asked.

'That depends on what you've come to do,' Loki replied in a whisper.

'Erik has thought of something to help you,' Thor told him. 'Do not trouble yourself. I'm going to carry you, brother.'

'No,' said Loki, rising himself to a sitting position. He seemed terribly weak; he was swaying sitting up. Thor's strong hands itched to help.

'But I could – ' he began.

'Don't you think you've humiliated me enough in front of these mortals?' Loki sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then breathed deeply and stood. Thor moved in to offer support, but Loki batted away the outstretched hand.

'I can walk,' he mumbled. 'I _shall_ walk.'

No use argueing with him now. Thor let him pass and followed half a step behind as his brother walked somewhat unsteadily into the corridor.

The humans' surprise showed clearly on their faces – well, maybe not Darcy's, she seemed ready to fall asleep where she stood and was not very interested in a Norse god's miraculous return to the coherently living.

'Are you sure you're up to this?' Erik asked diplomatically and cast Thor a glance. 'Thor, perhaps you should – '

'I'm right where I am needed.' Thor made a little gesture indicating that he intended to save his brother from falling to the ground, should Loki's stamina suddenly give out on him. 'Lead the path, Erik Selvig.'

Still looking suspiciously at Loki, Erik pointed, 'This way. To the basement.'

He took the lead, guiding them down the stairs. They moved slowly, first Erik, then Loki and Thor followed by Jane and an ill-humored Darcy. Loki progressed even more cautiously on the stairs, holding his hand over the rail, yet not touching it. At the bottom of the stairs they reached a rather large room lit by a single naked bulb that hung from its wires. The walls were lined with crudely assembled shelves, containing supplies and discarded household items. There were a collection of porcellain harlequins as well as a selection of tools intended for fixing small and larger issues about the house's electricity, plumbing, carpentry and garden. There also was a straw hat at a hook, a pile of fish magazines and a fishing rod leaning against the wall, complete with a bucket and a box for transporting worms and crickets: It had not taken Erik long to make this place his home and provide for his days off.

There was also a large pile of frozen food slowly thawing on the muddy floor.

Erik held open the lid of a large, square trunk. In spite of its white metal surface it looked more like a coffin than anything. It gave off a rather ear-deafening warning sound.

'What's that noise?' asked Thor.

'Temperature's rising. Quick. Help your brother climb in.'

'What is this device?' Even from the distance, Thor felt the great cold radiating off the strange trunk. He could see ice crystals crusting the insides of the thing. And he could see his own thoughts reflected in Loki's puzzled frown beside him: _This was like a piece of Jotunheim conserved in a magic box._

_A gateway into another dimension, maybe?_

_What did these humans know?_

'It's called a chest freezer,' Erik answered to the Asgardians' unspoken question. 'It's used it for storing food. The stuff you see over there.'

'What's that got to do with my brother?'

'There's a kind of poison in Loki's system that his body's trying to get rid of. It's working on it real hard. And effectively. According to my latest readings radiation levels are falling. Controlled fusion of the radioactive isotopes... reducing them to their stable forms. Perfectly harmless.' Erik raised his shoulders and opened his hands to show his inability to explain further. 'It's not possible, actually. And at this rate of processing! No metabolism can do that, at least none of earth-design.'

'I'm of Asgard,' said Loki calmly.

'And an expert user of magic, of course,' Thor added.

Loki flashed a smile, thin and sharp like a shard of glass. Or ice.

'Go on,' he ordered Erik.

'Not much left to explain, I think,' Erik said. 'Your system has been running in high gear for hours, ensuring your survival. That's its job. But it's not responsible for making it a pleasant experience. In fact, it's been extremely unpleasant. Because for all your supernatural powers, running a fever obviously leaves you feeling just as indisposed as - '

'If you had said "fuzzy-headed", I'd have killed you. But you didn't,' said Loki drily. 'Please. Don't ruin it by saying "as any human creature" now.'

Erik took it in stride. 'Whatever,' he said smoothly and patted on the lid. 'You will agree that events of tonight have taken their toll on you. This will aid you through the rest of it.'

'By freezing him?' asked Jane.

Erik turned to her, 'Jane, after all you've seen tonight, do you think an ice bath will have any effects worth mentioning on that body of his? How cold are your average ice cubes? Twenty, twenty-three degrees Fahrenheit? This device has a working temperature of minus four, and it can do minus thirty, according to the manual.'

Loki looked interested. No one would ever know. But the prospect of being chilled to the bone _did_ hold a certain attraction for the sick Jotun. He put his hand on the chest freezer's edge and peered in. 'This lid seems heavy. How do I get out again?'

'Well, I don't think you'll have trouble opening it from within. We can give it a test run, if you – '

'Watch out, brother,' said Thor, reaching out his hand.

Loki, who was in the act of climbing into the square opening, quickly writhed out of the way. But it was too late: The thunderer's hand touched his arm – and went right through it.

There was an angry, puzzled expression on the illusion's face as it dissolved.

'Too compliant,' mumbled Thor, looking around. 'I've seen you do more convincing acts of illusionary magic, brother.' While the humans still gazed, he spotted a target and flung his hammer at the figure that was scrambling up the stairs.

'Brother, please...' Loki wailed, then dissolved as Mjolnir hit him in the side. Jane and Erik flinched: If that had been the original, there wouldn't have been too much left of Loki's ribcage now.

Thor caught his hammer and continued to look around, searching.

'Let's go upstairs,' said Jane. 'He's got to be in hiding somewhere. Oh dear, I hope he's not run off.'

'Thor should be the only one to go,' said Erik. 'That way, he can be sure that anyone he encounters in the other rooms is either an illusion or the real McCoy.'

'_Oh. My. Goodness._' Darcy yawned. 'Don't you get it? That guy can probably keep playing his tricks on us all night. So much for handcuffing his magic, Jane. Well, you three go ahead taking care of that freak. I'll be in my – eyyyy!' Darcy gave a shriek, as Thor grabbed her and swiped her off her feet. Two steps, and the chest freezer was gaping under her. She looked at it with wide eyes, mumbling, 'Oh, nonononono._ No._'

Then she came to life and started to fight: Writhing like a caught ferret, Darcy managed to loop her legs around Thor's body and grabbed hold of his neck with both hands.

Thor quickly slid two fingers between her hands and his windpipe. 'Let go of my neck! I can't breathe!'

'That's the idea!' Darcy continued to throttle him, and she did so with a vengeance, holding on with her knees like a cowboy riding at a rodeo.

'Thor!' Jane finally found her voice back, and Erik said, 'Darcy! What the deuce – '

Thor pried loose Darcy's hands and threw her over his shoulder. She doubled over, her small hips and waist fitting conveniently on his broad shoulder, and banged her fists against his back, 'Don't you dare put me in there, that's stupid, ridiculous, pathetic, and, and – made for food!'

Thor's answer was a hard grip to control her kicking legs.

Seeing the futility of her effort, Darcy stretched desperately and grabbed hold of the fishing rod. She positioned it with a warrior's skill and a dancer's grace, then hit Thor so hard the gear broke and splintered against his back.

'Now you behave yourself,' Thor growled, pushing past Erik and Jane who stood frozen, shocked and aware of their own helplessness: Thor would do whatever he wanted with Darcy.

And he obviously wanted to put her in the chest freezer.

'I'm not going to sit on salami pizza!' Darcy screamed. 'This is madness!'

'Is it? Erik Selvig thinks it's good for you.'

'Thor,' screamed Jane, enraged. She rushed forward, grabbed the thunderer's arm with both her hands and tugged. 'Let go of her! Now!'

'Jane,' said Erik.

Thor swung Darcy around easily and playfully pretended to drop her. She shrieked, involuntarily holding on to his neck while her feet kicked the air. Thor caught her and cradled her to his chest, 'I like this form you've taken. It's easy to handle.'

'Jane! Erik! Do something!' Darcy braced her feet against the opposite edge of the chest freezer's gaping opening. It made her look like some four-legged cartoon character refusing to take his bath. Next, Thor would probably hop on her to make her give up.

But her amazing power to resist the god's sheer strength had to fail her sooner or later, and she knew it too. So, she thought of something else to defend herself: Out of nowhere Darcy produced a dagger, a triangular piece of flat, sharpened metal that stuck out between her left hand's middle finger and index finger.

'Hands off my boobs, you big oaf,' she spat.

'Darcy!' shouted Jane. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm going to freak out,' said Darcy. She stood on the stairs, bed-headed, and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. 'What's that noise? Don't you guys ever rest?'

The Darcy that was trying to reach backwards over her own head and stab Thor's neck, looked up sharply, flicker of rage in her eyes. Thor used the moment of distraction, pulled her feet from under her and dumped her in the chest freezer.

'Enough, brother,' he said satisfied, brushing off his hands.

Jane and Erik rushed forward: At the bottom of the ice-encrusted confinement sat Loki, tousled and shaken, too enraged to speak and too spent by his effort to get up and continue fighting.

'But - how did you know?' asked Jane, baffled. _The illusion had been so perfect, down to the timbre of Darcy's voice when she was mad..._

'Just one of my brother's favorite tricks,' said Thor, rolling his shoulders to relax the muscles.

'A trick you usually fall for,' Loki said, disdainfully. He tried in vain to control his labored breathing.

Everyone was looking at the God of Thunder.

Thor scratched his beard. 'Well,' he tried to explain, 'you see, when the going gets tough, Loki usually creates an apparition of himself to draw the enemy's fire. There'll be more, if he has time to prepare... I was suspicious from the time he refused my help. And I was pretty sure it wasn't him crawling up the stairs on all fours. Too pathetic.'

'You know your brother well,' said Erik. 'But how did you know he'd taken Darcy's form?'

'She mentioned using magic-blocking handcuffs. That was something Jane said when we were in the kitchen, using the microwave oven. There was no way Darcy could've heard. Yet, she referred to it...' Thor shrugged his shoulders as if to say, _Now, leave me be. It was nothing, really._

'That was really quick thinking you did there,' said Erik, impressed.

Thor actually looked embarrassed, 'Well, it just occurred to me...'

'Everything occurring to Thor has to be quick in the passing; otherwise he'll flatten it with his hammer,' Loki said from below, peeved. 'Now, could someone please give me a hand out of here? This alert is grating on my nerves.'

'Er, good point. How do we stop this terrible noise?' Thor asked, glad for the distraction.

'We close the lid,' said Erik. And he did.

The automatic alert stopped. Thor hopped and sat on the chest freezer. He rapped his knuckles on the lid that was quivering and obviously received heavy blows from inside: Loki was shouting something about his sitting on a tuna pizza and his general opinions on issues of dignity and sillyness.

'No test run, brother,' Thor decided. 'You just stay in there until Erik Selvig says you're healed.'

'How long's that going to take? Because that stuff's defreezing.' Darcy pointed at the supplies stacked beside the chest freezer: Water had started to collect under the lumps of frozen poultry, meat, pizzas, french fries, ice cream and microwave dishes.

The lid jumped. Thor bobbed on it.

'You stop fighting, brother,' he rumbled. 'Otherwise I'll have to take you to the humans' sick ward after all.'

'I am a god,' Loki screamed back at him, 'I demand to be let out!'

'I am a god, too, and I demand that you be quiet!' Thor threatened just as loud, only happier. 'I swear by my hammer, I shall take you there if you continue this obstinacy. I shall personally hold you down while the human druids perform their art on you. I shall fasten the straps, I shall put the needles into you, I shall - ' He looked at Jane questioningly.

'Oh. No. No, by no means,' she said, shaking her head. 'I'm not going to run him over with my car. That's not part of the show.'

'Strange, Jane Foster,' said Thor good-naturedly. 'I got the impression it actually was.'

'It was an _accident_._ - Both times._'

A few seconds ticked by. Everything stayed quiet.

'Er...' said Erik. 'Who's going to check on him?'

'There is no need,' said Thor. 'He's not going to come out unless I revoke my threat.'

'How can you tell?' asked Erik.

'He knows me well,' said Thor, knitting his eyebrows and rolling his eyes. But his mouth was smiling. It was the smile of someone who is convinced that things had finally found back to their natural order and would eventually turn out right.

'So, er, what do we do now?' asked Jane.

'Maybe we could – ' Erik looked at the pile of thawing food, 'prepare a late night dinner, while we wait?'

'Sounds good,' Thor said, dangling his legs and looking cheerful.

'Can you cook?' asked Darcy, hopefully.

Thor beamed at her, 'No. But I can eat.'

* * *

Brock was still riding the truck with the dog and the scarecrow for company, when the scent went cold. It was somewhere around the limits of the human village the druid knew the trickster was hiding in. Brock knew the god (or his superior metabolism, or his magic, or both) had been working on the problem; the acid, yet flowery scent of the radiant substances Brock had used on him had kept weakening all the time.

But the sudden vanishing of the smell suggested that Loki had actually found a spell to counteract the druid's marker in his system.

_Or gone hiding in a metal object and closed the lid, which was sort of ridiculous and pathetic and therefore very unlikely..._

Brock sniffed and sniffed – and discovered another unmistakable smell on the wind: Thor's hammer Mjolnir that had been forged in the fires in the heart of a dying star. As he had already suspected the God of Thunder was near.

And where Thor was, his brother and the book would not be far off...

Still maintaining his form as a slickerfur (or "rat" as seemed to be their name in this realm), Brock got off the truck. There was not much traffic on the streets in the aftermath of the thunderstorm. Brock soon reached a house that, to him, looked no different from the other human habitats along this street.

_But it was the only house that had had a dwarf spill his life blood on the lawn only a couple of hours ago._

Although the body was missing and the rain had washed away most of the evidence, Brock could still smell a residue of his unlucky warrior's blood in the soil. Mjolnir's scent had become a blinding, throbbing presence, the burning core of a sun that screamed to beware of danger, _danger_...

And there was Thor, his smell a peculiar mixture of bronze warmed by a gentle southern summer sun, and laurel-wreathed ruby.

And Loki, who, to a dwarf's nose, always smelled of cold silver, glittering on the nightly waters of a lake under a winter's moon, and minted onyx.

The druid grabbed his staff harder, ready to strike, and tried the front door. No point in being secretive. Either Loki had protected the house with expert spells that Brock was not able to detect – in which case it didn't matter whether he fried himself using the front entrance, some back window, the chimney, cat flap or the mail slot. Or the house was not protected at all, which was unlikely but obviously the plain truth.

The door opened, and Brock found himself in a room that was most strange to his eyes. There were cushions and chairs, tables and shelves, but also a lot of modern human equipment called "screens" and "keyboards", "computers" and "sound system" the workings of which Brock had but a vague idea about. However, there was one thing he did recognize: A dark leather coat hanging over a chair.

Even in his true form, Brock could move very swiftly if he wanted to: He was at the chair instantly, holding up the garment.

You didn't search a magician's coat unauthorized. Such an action would be beyond "stupid", even for a magic user of Brock's format. Only a masochist would put his hand into a magician's pocket – and probably find all his most secret wishes fulfilled, and in very creative ways.

Brock used his magical senses to locate the book in Loki's garment. Yet, he almost couldn't believe his luck when he found it: The trickster had to be in a very bad shape if he went about hiding Asgard's treasure so sloppily.

Another quick scan revealed that Loki had established a few protection spells, after all. Quite uncreative alliterations, simple runes, nothing complicated. They seemed to have been done in a hurry.

Still, Brock had learned the hard way never to underestimate Odin Allfather's second-born in questions of cunning and viscious intent. And the negligence in setting up some more effective defences was suspicious in itself...

But honestly, how cunning could Loki be at this point? Weakened and ill and just recently defeated by his brother in what had seemed a thunderstorm meant to sound the bells for Ragnarrok?

As if on cue, Brock could hear Thor laughing now. The God of Thunder's peculiar voice sounded over from another room, merrily. There were more voices, and, of course, smells: Mortals were joining Thor in his celebration of victory.

Brock stood for a moment, thinking. Then he sneaked in the corridor.

_Just one glimpse._ That would be enough to elate his spirits for centuries to come, Just one glimpse at the defeated trickster... Loki in bonds, broken, sick and humiliated. Brock could name at least half a dozen people who would sell their own bellows treaders off into slavery just for the privilege. (Everyone familiar with the blacksmith's craft knew about the worth of a capable man at the bellows. Mjolnir's handle was a little short because of an interruption of the bellows' working, which was in turn owed to Loki's trickery and spite.)

Lost in memory, Brock had not noticed the human who suddenly stood before him. A man, carrying an armful of cans that read "beer". He nearly dropped them at the sight of the dwarf in the dark corridor. 'Who the hell are – '

Brock quickly touched the tip of this staff to the man's chest. The blue stone in the staff's pointed head glowed. Blue mist wafted and reached for the man's heart.

'There is no-one here,' Brock whispered. 'You were mistaken.'

'Erik?' a female voice called. 'Did you say anything?'

The man stared at Brock, waiting for orders what to reply.

'No,' supplied Brock.

'No,' called Erik. 'Jane? There is no-one here. I was mistaken.'

_Good puppet._

'Where is the God of Mischief?' asked Brock. 'Where is Loki?'

The man pointed at a wooden door. He dropped two cans in the process that clattered on the floor. The man cursed softly and went to his haunches, carefully balancing himself to pick up the cans without dropping the others.

'Erik?' the woman called again. 'Do you need help?'

'No. No, I'm fine. I just dropped a can.' Fishing for the rolling can, Erik had forgotten about Brock, who used the cover provided by the noise for opening the door to the basement.

_Loki was down here._ The unmistakable smell, moonlit silver, mint and icy onyx, was on the air. A light suggested a larger room at the end of the stairs.

Brock waited until the noise in the corridor above had stopped, before he activated the soft blue glow of his staff's gem.

Then, he started to descend the steps.

+++End of Chapter 6+++

* * *

A/N: I really, really enjoyed getting Loki into that chest freezer. It was meant to be a rather pathetic thing, Thor picking up a dazed, half-unconscious trickster who was only able to protest a little as he was lowered into this thing. Loki was meant to be *helpless* by now. But it turned out (and did so almost from chapter 1) he has a mind and plans of his own :)

The idea of Loki being put on deep-freeze for medical reasons was one of the first pictures I had on my mind for this story. I can't help wondering if anyone noticed the mentioning of that very chest freezer in chapter 2 and made the connection. :)

There won't be an update next week. I'm going to Stuttgart, Germany. No kidding :) Visiting friends. Wonder if I'll get to see that opera house :) I'd really like to find your reviews on returning, so please comment :)


	7. Revelations

Hi everybody, I promised I'd be back with a new chapter. Took me somewhat longer to finish than I had expected (namely all Saturday afternoon). But there are some threads to tie up and in order to do so, it kept getting longer and longer, and it was tremendous fun, as always. A warm "thank you" to my reviewers out there, I really appreciate your guys' comments.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.

* * *

+++Chapter 7: Revelations+++

_Bling!_

'All right! Another lasagne, anyone?' Thor turned around, a large glove on his right hand and the said dish hot and steaming on it. With all the food waiting to be prepared, he had become quite proficient with the microwave – without a manual and in the shortest time.

The kitchen table was laden with food, heated to perfect temperature and ready for eating.

'No, really,' said Jane. 'I'm still fighting with the broccoli.'

'Vegetables,' Thor growled, looking for a place to put the lasagne. 'Jane Foster, your eating habits are nearly as peculiar as my brother's.'

'He's vegetarian, too?'

'No, but he used to say things like, "Oh, but we had that boar just yesterday. Father, can't you tell the Einherier to stop killing him and go for a stag for a change?" '

'_That_ boar? _Him_?'

'His name's Saehrimnir. He exists only to be hunted down by the warriors of Valhalla, get cooked and eaten, and return to life the next day.'

Jane stabbed at a piece of broccoli, 'Even for a boar that's one hell of a purpose in life, isn't it?'

'His meat sustains the one-thousand warriors that will fight for Asgard when the time for Ragnarok has come,' said Thor. 'He's got his own cook who's called Andhrimnir, and a kettle of his own, Eldrim.' He gave a proud laugh, deep and resonant. 'Tell me, Jane Forster, is that not a worthwhile way of life for a plain beast?'

'Well, it's probably one way to keep one-thousand men happily occupied,' Jane conceded. 'And Andhrimnir's got himself a safe job.'

She could tell that her reply vexed Thor, and she was glad to hear Erik return. She thought she heard even more...

'Erik? Did you say anything?'

'No,' called Erik. 'There is no-one here. I was mistaken.'

That was a bit out of context.

Jane and Thor exchanged glances.

'Erik?' Jane called again. 'Do you need help?'

'No. No, I'm fine. I just dropped a can.' There was an amount of shuffling and metal clanging sounds. Erik appeared in the door, his arms full of beer cans. Jane blinked: She thought she saw a strange blue light vanish from Erik's eyes. But in the next moment, it was gone, and he was all his usual jolly self, 'Thought I'd get us some supplies. This night has been long, and it's not over yet.'

'I'll trade one of your cans for a lasagne, Erik Selvig,' Thor offered.

Erik sat on a chair, 'Deal.'

'I've been thinking,' said Jane suddenly, 'Aren't you afraid your brother will suffocate in that narrow box?'

Thor eyed a slice of pizza "extra cheese" and tried to decide how to tackle it. 'He won't.' He dug his teeth in.

'How can you be so sure?'

'Mmmh!' Thor pulled with his teeth, but the cheese resisted. He used his fingers to remove the threads and stuff them in his mouth. Jane grimaced, pretending to be curiously despaired, and handed him a paper towel.

'Well?' asked Erik.

'We've done it before,' Thor said past a mouthful of cheese, olives and salami.

'What, lock him in a box?' Jane asked.

'Chained him, locked him in a box, threw him in a lake and forgot about him till evening,' Thor said, fishing for the next slice. 'He did the same with me. Together, we did it to Fandral and Volstagg.'

'Boys will be boys,' said Erik. 'That's what you're saying, isn't it?'

'Exactly. But we were a bunch of _Asgardian_ boys. Powerful and very nearly immortal, or so we'd been told. Of course, we'd want to test the limits. We needed to find out what we could do.'

'And you found - ?' said Jane, intrigued.

'We don't die from lack of air,' Thor said. 'We just stop. Our bodies, our thoughts, everything stops. It's like Odinsleep, only more profound. We come back to life as soon as air is available again - ' He stopped, remembering.

'Where's the catch?' asked Jane.

'Yes, well,' said Thor, 'it turned out that even for Asgardians it is difficult to resume breathing with their lungs full of water. But my brother, he had unwittingly turned the water _into ice._'

'Ice?' Jane shivered.

'It seems that Loki doesn't go into Odinsleep. He goes into a state of hibernation. Freezing the water in his lungs was just an involuntary side effect of his body temperature falling. Of course, we did not know then.' Thor blinked, blue eyes gazing into his past. 'When it was his turn, he woke up just like the rest of us. But he couldn't breathe. He simply couldn't breathe, and neither of us had the faintest notion of what was wrong. We thought we had finally found the limits of our power...and that my brother had transgressed them... my fear for him was great.'

'What did you do?'

'Why, put him back in and call father, of course,' said Thor, curtly. It was clear that not the happiest memories of childhood ensued after the events he had just related. 'Do you want another broccoli dish now, Jane Foster?'

'No, I'll have – some of that ice cream over there. Yes, put on some more, please. I guess this is the day when calorie counting goes out the window.'

'Secure the doors,' smiled Thor, arranging her dessert. 'I don't know what "calorie" is, but it sounds like I'd want it to stay outside. Where I don't have to think about it.'

'I'm sure you do. - I wonder how Darcy is doing,' said Jane, accepting the plate he handed her. 'I still think it was a good idea to take turns guarding the chest freezer. But she was so nervous Loki would actually come for her...'

As if she had supplied the cue, they all heard the scream. And Darcy's feet racing up from the basement.

* * *

Brock reached the bottom of the stairs and immediately turned to the chest freezer in the middle of the room. The tools on the shelves, the knick-knacks that were so strange to the eye – nothing was of import. There had been a fight; splintered wood on the floor bespoke of a fierce struggle, _mano a mano_.

There was a female mortal hidden from sight behind the large chest. Brock could smell her, and he also heard the flow of her breath: even and steady. She was not wounded. She was asleep. As was the Asgardian in the chest, probably. It was large, but not _that_ big. Loki should have run out of air, and Brock knew it meant a valuable advantage for him. Even a mage of Loki's league could not snap out of deathlike sleep with his focus right on target and his spells ready.

The best he would be able to manage was _maybe_ try and stab at the assailant with a throwing knife. They were the younger Odinson's favorite weapons to support his magic when fighting became too close-ranged for casting a spell.

Brock eyed the top of the chest. Then, he pulled over a wooden box displaying pictures of curiously shaped long yellow objects. He understood that they were some kind of exotic fruit but he still found them to look vaguely obscene. He stood on the crate: Now he could reach the top of the trickster's confinement. He wondered why Thor had put his brother in there. Was it a magic-restricting box? An artefact to control a demi-god's powers?

Holding his staff ready to strike, Brock opened the lid and peered in.

He pulled back, shocked.

He looked again.

The thing before his eyes responded to the fresh air and, probably, the light and stirred.

Brock prodded it with the tip of his staff.

The thing's hand shot forward on instinct and sent a shockwave of ice along the staff that Brock quickly countered with a spell of his own.

_So much for the throwing knife._

'Frost giant,' the druid gasped.

'Where?' asked Loki, cracking open bleary red eyes.

_That voice!_

_That magical signature in the ice encrusting his staff!_

Brock reeled with the impact of the discovery. There was no mistake! Loki Silver-Tongue, Loki Lie-Weaver, Loki Wielder-of-Mischief-and-Magic, Odin Allfather's second-born son - he wasn't really the King of Asgard's son at all!

_He was Jotun!_

'Oh, this is great!' Brock leaned in, standing on tip-toe in order to whisper to the drowsy trickster, 'Wait till the druids and rulers of the nine realms hear – '

The freezer's temperature alert set off.

Darcy woke with a start. She was disoriented. She had not meant to fall asleep. Heck, she had been too scared to sleep, or so she had thought - _the lid!_

Looking up, she found the chest freezer's lid standing open above her. The scary god was about to escape!

Without stopping to think, Darcy jumped at the lid, throwing her weight against it to slam it down. It crushed down on Brock's head just as the druid retreated in shock from the sudden, unknown noise. Brock swayed and sidestepped to catch his balance. He planted his foot rather firmly, and the thin wood of the box he was standing on gave way. He staggered and landed in an unfortunate position on the chest freezer's edge. The lid came down on his head and neck like a strange monster's jaw, pinning him. The box under his feet collapsed in on itself, leaving his feet kicking the air.

But only for a moment.

There was a brittle sound of bones snapping and the gurgle of a windpipe violently squashed. Brock's gaze froze. His right hand made a few jittery movements. His staff clattered to the floor. He gave a grunting sound and strained as if trying to get up, then he relaxed. Blood started to trickle from his nose and mouth.

Loki looked up at the dead face looming over him. A couple of things went through his dazed mind, the clearest articulated thought being,_ Neck's broken_.

And then, less coherent, but with feeling, _Even for a fever dream, this is kind of stupid._

_That guy was, like, what? – five thousand years old._

Inside Loki's head, a female voice recited that "due to improper handling and a lack of attention, most accidents occur at home."

Inexplicably, the voice sounded like Sif's.

And there was another voice - the voice of the woman he knew to be outside (whatever "outside" it was, he couldn't even remember what he was "in"): 'Oh no,' said Darcy, shuffling backwards. 'Oh no, no, no, _oh no!_'

'Excuse me,' said Loki, politely. _Could anyone please tell him what this place was? In what realm?_

_'I'm freaking out!'_

That, along with a peculiar whimper in her voice, set a wheel of memory churning.

'Darcy, right?' said Loki. 'Listen, could you maybe close - ?'

He heard her feet scrape on the floor as she turned and fled.

He looked at Brock's dead face again.

With an effort, Loki pulled himself up and pushed the dead thing out. He had to push several times, he felt so weak, and Brock seemed stuck. The sound of his body hitting the floor was already muffled by the slamming lid. The beeping stopped. Glorious silence and pleasant cold engulfed the sick god, along with an impenetrable darkness that made it all the same whether he tried to see or not.

Allowing his eyes to slide shut, Loki folded his arms over his chest and found a comfortable position with his back against the chest freezer's inner side. Before his mind's eye, he saw an image of Sif. She was wielding her two-handed battle-ax in a series of wild loops and whirls, jumping, dodging, spinning this way and that. Now she stopped, looked fully at him and said, 'Remember, Loki: Due to a lack of accidents, we must pay attention to handle our tools properly when at home.'

Heaving a sigh, Loki went back to sleep.

* * *

Roused by Darcy's scream, her panicked entry and incoherent report, Thor, Jane and Erik rushed to the basement. Thor held Mjolnir ready for battle. He had not been able to make much sense of Darcy's story. But he had gathered that the dwarves had finally arrived, and Loki was in trouble...

The basement room was quiet and peaceful. Nothing had changed from the time the friends had left.

Except, of course, for the corpse on the floor and the blood on the chest freezer's white metal side.

Thor paid no attention to the dead dwarf. He crossed the room with two long strides, calling out his brother's name.

Jane, however, gave a little yelp. Her hand went to her mouth.

'I told you he's dead!' Darcy wailed behind her.

'No, you said you _thought_ he was dead.' Jane swallowed. 'You didn't mention it would be so messy.'

Thor threw open the chest freezer's bloody lid, shouting, 'LOKI!'

'Huh?'

'Talk to me, brother! Are you dead?' Thor looked into the freezer.

'I really meant to sleep this time, you know?' his brother said groggily. He started to pull himself to his feet, blinking away the mists of sleep. 'But _no_, my brother has to rush to my rescue. If that druid had – '

Thor quickly shut the lid again.

There was a thumping noise and the sound of something heavy tumbling down inside.

'He wasn't dead. But he might be now,' said Erik sternly. 'What did you do that for?'

'Er...' said Thor.

'Move aside, please.' Erik made sure he did not touch the dead body and talked to the chest freezer. 'Loki? You okay?'

No reply.

'Loki? How are you?'

Finally - 'It's dark, it's cold, and my head hurts,' Loki sounded remarkably dazed. Erik sighed with relief, but he _did_ make a mental note: So it _was_ possible to concuss a god, after all.

'Am I in some kind of prison?' Loki asked.

'Not really, no. This device is meant for storing food.'

'You want to eat me?' Still not quite there. But catching up on basic logical connections.

'Definitely not!' Erik assured him.

'Then why can't I get out?'

Erik gave Thor a stern look. 'That's mostly because your brother still has his huge paw on the lid. The one with the hammer in it.'

'My apologies, brother' said Thor, 'But I – it's for your own good.' He could not think of any words to tip Loki off, while not arousing the humans' suspicion.

Unfortunately, the trickster was not in the mood for catching subtle hints.

Loki banged against the lid. 'Thor! Move aside!'

'I cannot - '

'Oh, _he cannot_! Well, then stay where you are. _Just take Mjolnir off of my head!_'

'Be quiet and listen, I beseech you,' Thor begged. 'Only for one second - '

'Alright – second's over,' spat Loki. 'I've listened. Now you let me out!'

Thor realized there was one good thing to this fight: Loki had screamed himself fully awake. The bad thing was he was prepared to keep screaming until the world bent to his wishes. It usually did, if only to his overwhelming wish to see something destroyed. Next, the room would undergo serious redecoration, all tools, items on the shelves, fishing gears and probably the chest freezer itself getting hurled about in a short, but nonetheless powerful whirlwind of magic.

Humans could get hurt.

Jane could get hurt.

'For the last time: Get away from that lid, Thor! _Now!_'

Miserably, Thor removed his hand. The chest freezer sprang open and Loki pulled himself to a standing position. He breathed deeply, greedy for air. His whole frame was covered in glittering ice crystals like swarming bees clinging to their queen. His clothes were frozen stiff, his usually dark hair was white with rime and his eyes –

His hands –

He turned his red eyes to his hands and stared at the blue skin.

He breathed, 'What - ?'

'Loki,' said Thor, as calmly as he could. 'I meant to tell you: Your glamour has ... come off a bit.'

Loki gave him a look soaked with sarcasm, _You don't say! I'd never have noticed._

_Let me rephrase that._

'I didn't notice!' Slowly, Loki looked up to meet the stares of the humans. He felt he could see his reflection in their eyes now, if he looked real close: the image of a Jotun. The monster had come out when he was asleep in the cold of this machine. _And a blessing it was that it had done so._ His Asgardian form would not have sustained him in this environment.

But these three humans had learned the secret. And he could not kill them right away to ensure their silence because of Thor standing there, looking sympathetic but heroic all the same. Any attempt on Loki's part would instantly trigger the good old "Save the innocent and bash the villain" routine that his brother seemed to suck in with his morning mead.

Loki changed into his Asgardian form and raised his hands in a placating gesture. His brain still felt like a pile of ice needles grinding against the inside of his skull.

'My friends – ' he began, desperately trying to think of what to say next.

'Wow,' said Darcy, awed. 'Did you see him change his eye color? How'd he do that?'

'Well,' said Jane, snippily. 'I don't think it's much of an improvement, really.'

'Where'd he get that hair gel?'

'Dude, that frost giant anti-freeze in your veins might be worth a fortune, if one could isolate and market it,' said Erik.

The Asgardians exchanged a glance.

'My friends,' said Thor, 'You talk like this fact about my brother was already known to you?'

'Sure,' said Darcy.

'I did my homework,' said Erik, and Jane nodded, 'Me, too.'

Loki finished climbing out of the chest freezer and turned to Thor, 'You gave them the book.'

'I didn't.'

'Where's my coat?' Loki looked about.

'Now, wait –' said Jane, but Thor said, 'It's upstairs. On the chair next to the sofa,' and Loki already bounded up the stairs, taking four steps at once. Thor raced after him, clearing six steps in one stride.

Erik, Darcy and Jane did the best they could to follow, but when they reached the living room, the search was already at full sway: Loki held his leather coat in both hands. He turned the garment inside out. He shook it fiercely and probed for hidden objects. He was yelling at Thor that "it" wasn't there, and Thor claimed that no one had touched Loki's clothes since they had gotten them off him.

'He's got it, then!' Loki flung the coat back on to the chair and set off again. "He" obviously was to be found in the basement. Thor, of course, was hot on his brother's heels.

Jane, Erik and Darcy stared.

'Anyone can imagine that he was a fever-racked vegetable in Thor's arms about three hours ago?' asked Erik, but Jane and Darcy had turned on their heels and were already heading in the direction they had come from.

In the basement, Loki was on his knees beside the dead druid and went through the dwarf's pockets. 'I was supposed to protect it. Mother gave it to me to take it to safety. Thor, how can I look her in the face, ever again?'

'I will tell her how the loss came about,' Thor promised. 'That it was I who took away your coat. There was nothing you could've done. It was my responsibility.' He put his hand on Loki's shoulder and was surprised when his brother accepted the touch. He pushed his luck, squeezing a little. That, too, was allowed tacitly. 'Let us search this building. Maybe the druid hid it somewhere.'

Loki drew a shivering breath. When he replied, he sounded like the soft-spoken young man Thor had known and trusted in happier times, 'I could sense it, brother, if it were here. He's probably taken it to Dwarfheim, then returned to settle his feud with me.' Loki's tired voice changed. Now, it was flat and deadly. '_Curse him,_ he removed it from my reach.'

Jane said, 'What's this book you've been hiding from us, anyway?'

'It contains all,' said Thor when Loki appeared to be blinking back tears and would not reply. 'The tales of the beginning. The wise womens' songs of Ragnarok, the end of the worlds. And the great deeds, the adventures, sorrows, achievements that pave the way. The song of Grimnir and Wafthrudnir and Vegtamskvida. The story of Odin Allfather and the Asgardians. You name it. The fate of the nine realms is laid down in this book. It is the Book of Wisdom and Songs.'

Jane, Darcy and Erik looked at each other.

'Er,' said Jane, 'and that's why it's so important? That's why your brother,' she still refused to speak Loki's name easily, 'risked his life to safe it? Because no one must lay hands on those revelations and prophecies except Odin Allfather and his inner circle of druids?'

'Aye,' said Thor slowly. 'To have forfeited it is a severe loss to all of Asgard.'

'Well,' said Jane, 'maybe we should all, er, go upstairs and do some explain- '

Brock's dead body went up in flames. Loki stood over the burning corpse, the druid's staff in his hand. The fire was reflected in his eyes. 'Explanations, you say? That's wonderful. I cannot wait to hear your opinion on this, Jane Foster.'

'I would like to spare Thor,' Jane said, once again amazed by how much arrogance the trickster could convey with a mere smile. 'But you, I look forward to filling in on the news.'

* * *

In the living room, Erik searched his book shelf for something he would not speak about prematurely. Thor watched him from the sofa, where Jane had made the two Asgardians sit down. She hoped it would give Darcy, Erik and herself some kind of head start when her message registered.

For the moment, she was using Erik's portable Geiger counter on Loki. Taking his readings was convenient and easy because he was busy with a piece of defrosted cheese cake and raspberries.

It had seemed ridiculous, offering sweets to a Norse god and frost giant. But in the aftermath of his ordeal, Loki found himself alarmingly low on bloodsugar to the point of feeling dizzy. He was using a fork, of course. Apart from that, he basically inhaled the cake and sucked up the raspberries, and he wasted little time on pretending he actually savored the taste.

'Well,' Jane said. 'The fever's gone, the wound is almost healed, and your system seems to just have absorbed the radiation. Congratulations. You're in perfect shape.'

Loki was so unsurprised, he didn't even acknowledge the good news.

Or maybe he was just too enrapt with the cake and hadn't listened.

'Put the plate away for a sec; I'm coming,' huffed Erik, carrying a rather large and heavy pile of books.

Loki swallowed the last raspberry, just as Erik started to hand out books, 'Here it is. The Edda, Midgard edition, if you will. Nordic songs and sagas, complete, unabridged and commented for philological use. This is the children's edition. Yes, take it, Thor. Have a look. Note the carefully done illustrations. Here, a translation done in the 19th century. It focuses on reproducing the alliterative verses – you are aware that most songs and poems of the Nordic tradition are rendered in this form, aren't you? Here we have an issue completely in Icelaendic. I never got down to actually learning the language but I thought I might start, given the right incentive. This is some pocket edition I found at a garage sale. And here – '

'I don't have a red beard,' said Thor, flipping through the children's edition.

'This is common knowledge in this realm?' Loki stared at the pages of the 19th century English edition. 'It says here that Loki Laufeyson, child of Jotunheim, was accepted as an Aesir by Odin Allfather, and _everyone in this realm knows_?'

Jane, Darcy and Erik nodded: yes.

'I'm supposed to know, but I'd like to make sure...' Loki's gaze flickered up, 'What century is this?'

'Twenty-first,' said Darcy and shrugged her shoulders. 'I didn't want to tell you earlier but your coat sucks. The Matrix was Reloaded ten years ago.'

'Everyone in this realm has known for two-hundred years?' Loki's voice was soft and flat, but no longer deadly. Behind the pale forehead thoughts were visibly racing, tumbling over each other, and it was equally obvious that the result was far from pleasant.

'The Edda was compiled in the middle ages,' said Erik. 'But the songs had been in circulation for much longer. I'm sorry, prince. But I guess people of Earth have known for more than one-thousand years.'

'Looks like we've been duped big time, brother,' said Thor, looking at the book and shaking his head in wonder. 'Especially you. How many times did father punish you for trying to sneak a glimpse from these pages?'

Loki moved his lips like there was a lump in his throat that made it impossible for him to speak. He reached for something to crush in his hand. It happened to be the cheese cake fork, and he clutched it real hard.

Thor, on the other hand, was already smiling again, 'I actually like that beard. And this little guy's hammer is really impressive.'

'Asgard's most hidden secrets...' Loki's re-found voice was hoarse, 'The past, present and future of the nine realms – edited as an illustrated children's story,' his voice rose half an octave in pitch, while dropping in volume to a half-whisper, 'and all you've got to say is_ you appreciate how your beard is drawn_?!'

Thor frowned, 'Forgive me. I am a warrior and must speak my heart. I cannot discuss books in the learned way of mother and you.'

'You're going to like this, then,' said Darcy, bringing on yet another publication. 'The graphic novel series, collector's edition. I loved it.'

'Oooh, I can see why' said Thor, delighted. He turned the book around and pointed, 'Look, brother. That guy in the horned helmet, that's you! Oh dear!' He put his hand to his face and laughed past his fingers, 'I never realized it looked that absurd.'

Loki couldn't breathe for fury. His eyes were glassy with angry tears. Slowly, unconsciously, he changed his grip on the cheese cake fork, making it stick out between his index finger and middle finger. 'If you say "Cow" in any language spoken in this or any other realm, I'll – '

'But that's what it looks like,' objected Thor, 'Just like a – '

'O-okay,' said Jane. 'Everybody head start. _Now.'_

+++End of Chapter 7+++

* * *

A/N: I feel like I should say a lot about this chapter, but actually there's not much to add. Except that I was sort of surprised to find that even that poor immortal boar, its perpetual cook and even _its kettle_ got names of their own :) And that _stupid things can happen, you know._ I had no idea just how pathetic Brock's end would be until I wrote it down, word by word, phrase after phase. I stopped typing. I sort of "looked at him" from above. Loki looked at him from below. And then, after a moment of silence, he said to me (sort of; I'm not really schizophrenic), "Well, at least you never promised an epic final battle, did you.' At that, I decided I would not even try and rewrite :) End of chapter, but not the end of the story. :)


End file.
